Tales From the Southern Isles
by StokinDembers
Summary: Never in his life had Hans thought he would go through such great lengths in order to secure a throne of his own. Now he will have to face the painful consequences of his actions, starting with the outrage of his twelve older brothers. But when the royal family's reputation is called into question, can the siblings work together to form a united front and save the monarchy?
1. Prologue

_**Warning**: This story contains some spoilers for the movie FROZEN. If you haven't seen it yet, don't read! I'd hate to ruin the surprise! _

_That being said, welcome Frozen readers!  
It has come to pass that I've developed a stupid obsession for Hans. That's right. The heartless jerk! Go figure. _

_Anyway, this idea latched onto my brain and would not let go so I'm afraid the only way to expel it is to write it all out! Lucky for you guys! Mwaa ha ha!_

_All I can say is I hope I'm not the only sap out there who feels like Hans deserves a bit of sympathy since his horrible childhood kind of had a lot to do with the wounded man he is today. __This story will touch on bits and pieces from Hans' past, introduce you to his brothers and the family dynamic, as __well as bring in a **true** love interest for Prince Hans!_  


_**Disclaimer**: I own nothing and am merely giving my particular portrayal of the twelve brothers as well as coming up with a story plot! _

_Hope you guys enjoy :)_

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**Tales From the Southern Isles**

* * *

Prologue

...

Seven days.

That's how long Prince Hans of the Southern Isles had been held prisoner upon his own royal vessel, guarded like a common criminal within its dark, damp, and putrid smelling jail cell.

The steady creaking of the floor boards and the bellow of ocean waves beating against the ship's underbelly had become a rhythmic melody to Hans' ears, offering the only lulling comfort available during his time in solitary confinement. With each random lurch or gut wrenching dip, Hans cursed himself, cursed his situation and most of all, his twelve older brothers.

_They_ were the ones who had driven him to this madness.

Never in his life had Hans thought he would go through such great lengths in order to secure a throne of his own. Growing up with the promise of having everything he could ever ask for, only to watch his dreams be viciously trampled upon again and again by his cold-hearted siblings had done nothing to nurture a sense of belonging and gratitude inside Hans' heart.

He saw now that his obsession with the idea of having his chance to rule as king over a people who would both love and respect him had been a dream which started from a very young age. From the moment of his birth, Hans had been perfectly aware that his presence within the family was unwanted. No one had cared about him and therefore no one had taken time to pay him the attention and the affection he had so desperately craved as a young lad.

An unshakeable sense of desperation to prove himself as _someone_ worth while had taken route in his core and eaten away until nothing but his thirst for power and rulership remained. It had infected his mind like a poison, corrupting each and every part of his life until it forced him to the edge of his sanity. The result?

Hans had attempted to murder the Queen of Arendelle and steal her throne for himself.

Such actions deserved severe consequences and Hans could hardly begin to imagine what kind of frightful reaction would be evoked from his brothers. By now they would have already received a letter from Arendelle with the news of their youngest sibling's devilish deeds. If one thing was for certain, it was that after he returned, Hans' life would _never_ be the same. This was a fact which he was still struggling to come to terms with. It no longer mattered if he was born of royalty. Once this ship reached shore, he would be forever labeled a dangerous psychopath, becoming an instant outcast in the eyes of his people and all generations to follow...

...

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_Stay tuned folks and be sure to click "follow" if you're interested in seeing what is to become of Prince Hans next! _


	2. Invisible

_Thanks for checking back readers!  
It's SOOOO appreciated. :) _

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**Tales From the Southern Isles**

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Chapter 1: Invisible

...

Hans readjusted himself upon the uncomfortable wooden bench for what must have been the fifteenth time during that hour. No matter which way he sat, the comfort he sought continued to elude him. He'd been using the same bench as substitute for a bed during the last week of his imprisonment and his sore, stiff muscles were testament to its unsuitability. A vicious sea storm had raged for close to three days of the journey and during that time, Hans had been subject to the worst motion sickness anyone could suffer through. There were times when part of him had solemnly wished to die rather than endure one more day of this torture.

He could hardly remember a time where he'd been subjected to discomfort such as this. His nights were restless, and what time he did manage to pass in slumber never failed to be interrupted by abruptly being tossed from his bed to the floor whenever the ship made sudden dips or turns. The prison food was mediocre at best, generally leaving a stale aftertaste on his tongue, and all the hours in between mealtimes and nightfall he spent brooding on his wretched past.

Many times of injustice and neglect did Hans recall in the dreariness of his prison cell and though he knew dwelling on them would do nothing to improve his mood, he basked in them anyway. Some memories in particular stuck out more than others...

()()()

A five year old, wide eyed and freckled Hans scampered down one the palace's many red-carpeted hall ways. Lit lanterns cast light over every ancestor's portrait that hung on the wall as he passed on his way. The line started with his great, great, great grandfather all the way to the end of the long corridor where his father hung second to last. Hans came to a slide stop to pause and stare up at the portrait of his father, taking in the sight of his red hair, bushy brows, brilliant blue eyes, big nose, and full beard. Just a hint of a smile could be made out behind all that facial hair, hinting that the man had a sense of humor, and a golden ground shimmered gloriously atop his head, testifying to the man's royal greatness.

These portraits which hung upon the walls of the Southern Isle's castle were all Hans had to remember his father by. He'd been a good man. Hans was sure of it. Everyone, dignitaries and servants alike, always spoke of him in such high regard, holding him up as a standard that all future kings should go by.

Letting his eyes travel over to the next painting, Hans scrunched his nose, making a face at the picture that he saw. At the age of thirty-two, Fredrik had been crowned king the day after their father's life was taken by a serious illness. Fredrik had been ruler of the Southern Isles for little over a year now and must have been doing a relatively okay job, considering the kingdom had not yet been attacked and overtaken by vikings.

Hans hardly knew his oldest brother well enough to have a good opinion of him. He never even saw Fredrik except for at public events or parties. Judging by the young king's serious, sour face in the portrait, Hans was already certain that his stranger of a sibling would never live to be as good a ruler as father. Sticking out a rebellious tongue at his brother's image and lifting his nose pompously high, Hans then turned to continue his sprint down the hall way.

Being the youngest of thirteen brothers meant there was always something interesting happening at some part of the castle, and Hans didn't like to miss out on any of it. In fact, half his young days were spent running from room to room, begging to be included in whatever was going on.

Finding the nearest set of stairs, Hans crawled spunkily up them on all fours like a dog until he reached the top. This was the floor where all of the princes' rooms were located. Surely, Hans would find someone to play with him up here. Lately, his closest set of brothers had taken it into their heads that he was invisible and they couldn't see or hear him no matter how loud he shouted. In the beginning it had been funny and Hans had quite enjoyed it, but after three days of pretending non-stop, the game had slowly become an excuse for them to completely ignore him. By now, Hans was even beginning to wonder if they really _couldn't_ see or hear him.

_Was_ he invisible?

The first room he entered was the room that he, and his two closest in age brothers shared. Nikolaus, also called 'Nels', was seven while Viggo was ten. The both of them shared an interest in playing wooden toy soldiers and were known for spending hours upon hours in their bedroom acting out war scenes. As it was, the entire room was scattered with the carnage of battle. Over turned carts, scattered wooden men and horses were littered all over the floors as well as hundreds of tiny canons.

"Soldiers!" Hans exclaimed in excitement, bouncing up and down in thrilled excitement in the door way.  
"Can I play!? Can I play?!"  
Nels and Viggo both startled at Hans' sudden intrusion, shooting each other displeased and scheming glances. Whenever their nursemaids made them to include Hans in their games, it was a fact of life that something of theirs _always_ got broken. Seeing as their currently was no nursemaid standing over their shoulders making them share, both of the young boys simultaneously made a silent agreement that the game of "pretend Hans doesn't exist" was still in progress.

"Do you hear that Nels?" Asked Viggo, pretending to look around the room in perplexity.  
"I do," Nels played along, "I think it is the wind..."  
"It's me, it's me!" Hans cried desperately, hoping the game would finally be over and done with.  
"The wind is coming from a draft in the hall way," Viggo stated.  
"I'll shut the door," Nels proposed, walking right over to the door way. Hans gazed hopefully at his brother but his expression fell in disappointment when Nels merely looked right past him and closed the door in his face. Little Hans felt like crying.  
"I don't like this game anymore! This isn't a fun game! Guys? Guys!" Hans shouted through the door, but there was no response other than the sound of Nels and Viggo's mumbling voices carrying on with their battle. Hans stood there for a while, staring at the door with a quivering lip and tears brimming in his eyes. Finally, the five year old sulked away, his tiny shoulders slumped in dejection.

The next room on the floor belonged to the fourth, fifth and sixth older brothers, Bosse, Ralph and Lars. They were 13, 17 and 19 years of age and with that being said, the teenagers were far more mature. Hans perked up at the sound of Bo's loud, boisterous voice and rounded the corner to peer into the room curiously.

"I think I have a chest hair! Look! Look! Come, Look! See?!"  
"I don't see _anything_," snorted Ralph dubiously, pushing his glasses back up his nose in a dignified manner.  
"It is too there, look! It's just blond so it's hard to see!" Bosse returned. Indeed, Bosse was the only toe-head of the family and therefore had the most memorable appearance amidst the younger brothers. Not to mention he had a loud, booming personality that just about drove everyone else in the castle nuts.  
"You're seeing things," Ralph insisted, rolling his eyes as he turned back to continue the schoolwork on his desk.  
"It is THERE I tell you!" Bosse argued stubbornly pointing to his bare chest.  
"Alright, alright, Bo, come here, let me look," came the smooth, warm voice of the oldest brother in the room. Lars sat up from where he had been laying casually on his bed with a book in his hands and beckoned Bo over.  
"Right there," Bo informed, pointing to the spot. Lars narrowed his eyes in search.  
"Hmm... maybe you're right," Lars agreed, "I think it is..."  
"You've got to be joking," Ralph challenged from his chair in the corner. Bo beamed with pride, his grin going from ear to ear as he shot Ralph a sassy smirk.  
"No, no, I'm not," Lars assured, "I think it's... oh... wait a minute, " Lars leaned forward to inspect closer and suddenly Bo became tense.  
"Nope, false alarm," Lars announced, "It's only a bit of lint hair,"  
"What!?" Bo blared, his cheeks turning bright red in mortification.  
Ralph and Lars both burst into laughter, leaving Bo standing flabbergasted, his dreams of achieving early man hood smashed.

Hans could hardly contain a burst of snickers himself, but unluckily for him... Bo heard it and snapped his head towards the door.  
"Why you little sneak! Get out of here you spy!" he raged, charging at the door. Hans nearly tripped over himself but he took off running to escape his brother's wrath.  
"And don't you go blabbing about this to anyone or I'll ring your neck!" Bo raged, just before he slammed the door shut.

By the time he reached the end of the hall way Hans was winded and whimpering. No one wanted him around here. With all hope of finding someone to play with on this floor now lost, Hans sunk to the floor and wept. No one had come to find him, and no one seemed to notice he was missing. He was invisible.

()()()

"LAND HO!"

Even from down below in the brig, the ship's faithful look out could be heard loud and clear. The unexpected shout had jogged Hans right out of his gloomy past and back into present reality.

Standing drearily to his feet, the prince walked across his cell to the nearest porthole. In the far distance, a familiar mountain of land protruded up from the ocean waters.

The Southern Isles.

Hans had never before felt so bitter at the sight of home.

...

* * *

_Poor dude. That was a rough chapter I know. A sad past. It's difficult to visualize a crushed little five year old crying his eyes out and NOT have your heart break! _

_However, if you thought that was bad, he's in for a world of pain in this next upcoming chapter, let me tell you that! Lucky for you though, I shall make it entertaining and not too dreary. Things will lighten up much faster than you think! _


	3. Disgrace

_I must say I'm quite pleased with the bits of attention my story has received thus far! You can be sure that I am very grateful for each and every review that is posted! My readers' opinions and words of encouragement mean a lot to me. Every little bit surely does help! _

_So, without further ado: _

* * *

**Tales From the Southern Isles**

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Chapter 2: Disgrace

...

It was hours past sunset by the time the ship reached the royal docks and the crew began unloading. From where Hans gazed out of the porthole he could see the stars twinkling like gems hanging in the sky. It was easy for him to spot several familiar constellations but all of them seemed to frown down at him tonight.

Surely his nighttime arrival had been secretly planned in order to keep as many of the kingdom people in the dark about the shame which their young prince had brought home with him.

Hans didn't know if he should be grateful that his brothers sought to keep his return a secret from a potentially violent crowd greeting, or enraged that once _again_ they intended to cover him up like he didn't exist.

Footsteps suddenly clattered their way down the wooden stairs leading to the bridge and soon a pair of guards were opening his cell door.  
"Time to go," the tallest guard informed roughly. Hans eyed the shackles in which the guards carried but didn't put up a fuss when they entered the cell and turned him around to clap the irons over his wrists. The last thing Hans needed right now was to get into deeper trouble. There was no getting away from the punishment that awaited him, whether he managed to escape or not. His past sins would haunt him forever if he did not face them here and now.

Despite the fact that Prince Hans was cooperating, a raging fire of rebelliousness roared within his chest. He was of royal blood and as such the desire to demand that he be treated with respect was nearly suffocating him. But he pressed his lips tightly together, keeping silent as the guards escorted him up the stairs and out onto the main deck. Being free from behind those prison bars and the dingy cell walls was quite exhilarating after a week of confinement. The sea winds whipped playfully at his auburn hair and ruffled his now unsightly royal garb. Hans paused a moment to drink in the sight of his homeland, noting the lights glowing from many a small village house's window, along with lit lanterns lining the empty stone road streets. Beyond the market place and the hundreds of quaint civilian homes, a dark castle towered high into the sky, looking down in dominion over the land it governed.

Briefly, Hans wondered how many of his brothers were inside it, their eyes spewing out condescending glares in his direction from the windows which they stood by. Had any of them even bothered to come out and meet him on this windy night?

In the next moment, the prison guards rudely reminded Hans of their presence with an unexpected shove to his back, and ushered him along to the loading ramp where they descended. Royal soldiers stood in ranks along the dock ramp, greeting their prince with little more than cold stares as he was led ingloriously past them in chains. A black carriage with window bars, pulled by two big, black horses awaited Hans once he reached the end of the dock. So he was going straight to the prison then.

Delightful.

As Hans waited for the guards to open the heavily secured carriage doors, he took the opportunity to shoot one last defiant glare towards the castle. Then, he was hustled into the dark carriage and the door was shut with a loud creak behind him. The carriage driver clucked to the horses, and with one slap of the reins, the cab lurched forward at a quick pace. Hans sunk into his seat moodily, his jaw set firm and eyes wary from travel.

"You must be tired," came a sudden male voice.

Hans jerked up, staring into the darkness right in front of him. It was only when he looked really hard that he could see the two people dressed in a black robes who had been waiting in the carriage seat just across from him. Hans stiffened in fear.

"Why, after such a long journey, and with all that effort put into devious _scheming_, I'd be pretty beat myself," the man stated flatly. Hans swallowed and cocked a brow.

"Oh, agreed. You must be exhausted. Here, want a pillow?" came the second voice, suddenly reaching out with a fluffy red pillow in hand. Hans deadpanned at the offer, no longer afraid. He knew exactly who these two were. In fact, if they hadn't overplayed their accents and talked in deeper voices just to mess with him, he would have known right away.

"I don't need any sympathy from you _Hubert_. Or _you_ Günter," he practically growled.

The owners of the voices now leaned forward, removing their black hoods to reveal themselves fully. Günter and Hubert were the fourth and fifth eldest born of the thirteen Southern Isle princes. They were also the only set of twins out of the lineage. Both were big, in their early forties and with jet black hair and thick brows. The only way to tell the difference between the two was that Günter had a large, mountain man beard and Hubert only a mustache.  
"A 'no _thank you' _would have sufficed_,_" Günter corrected harshly, his small blue eyes narrowed angrily, "You're lucky I even let Hubert bring you the darn pillow, much less that we're here at all!" he snapped viciously, grabbing the pillow from Hubert and throwing it in Hans's face. Hans flinched, feeling hot anger begin to boil in his gut. But he reined in his emotions carefully, biting his tongue and settling with simply glaring murder at his two older brothers.  
_"_You're a _p__rince _Hans! Not some low life street thug without a lick of sense!" Günter raged on rebukingly, "What in the name of Oden were you _thinking_?! I'll tell you what you were thinking: **NOTHING! **That's what!"

"Shouting isn't going to make things better Günter," Hubert interjected, "The young lad's overwhelmed enough,"  
"I'm not done yet," Günter argued, his hard gaze unwavering from Hans's.  
"Do you have any _idea_ of the severity of your actions? You have not only dishonored your name, but all of _ours!_" he barked, "You cannot even begin to comprehend how delicate of a situation you have put this monarchy into!"

Hans listened to his brother's rampaging, Günter's words crashing against him like a tidal wave.  
"King Fredrik is furious, the council is in an uproar and the rest of our brothers are gobsmacked. No one can believe our baby brother would try and _murder_ a fellow monarch! And an allied one at that!"  
Hans said nothing and kept his expression completely stoic. Günter was panting.  
"Are you done now?" Hubert inquired. Günter ignored his twin.  
"I hope you're happy Hans. I truly hope you are. Because it's all downhill from here for you. That's for certain. Nothing short of a noose around your neck will solve the Southern Isle's relations with Arendelle now,"  
"Günter..." Hubert persisted.  
"So I am to be hanged then," Hans stated darkly, "for a crime I did not even succeed in committing?"  
Günter's eyes blazed.  
"Why you cheeky-!"  
"Not necessarily," Hubert interrupted swiftly, before Günter could fire up again, "You have still to be tried. The council will not make an official decision on your fate until they get a statement from you first," Hubert explained softly.  
"Where are you taking me?" Hans questioned, "To the prison?"  
"To the Palace," Günter growled out.  
"The Palace?" Hans was shocked.  
"All of us took a vote, and we decided that you are to be held prisoner within your room till morning where you will attend an official trial in the King's court," Hubert informed.

Hans couldn't help but be surprised that so many of his brothers had opted for keeping him in the palace instead of being locked away in some dingy prison cell. Judging by Günter's displeased expression, it was likely that he had not been one of the brothers to make that suggestion, but had gone along with it because he'd been out voted.  
"That's pretty brave of you all, deciding to keep your blood thirsty brother under the family roof," Hans snarked.  
"I'm not concerned," Günter promised, moving a hand back to casually brush away his cloak where a small knife tucked snugly in his belt was revealed. Hans noted the weapon and felt a chill run up his spine. Günter was not a man to be taunted. When he unsheathed a weapon, he meant to use it. Aside from his princely duties to the castle, Günter had also been appointed by King Fredrik as General of the Souther Isle's army and had mastered how to use any weapon that fell into his hand. Add his deadly skill with his heated temper and you had a man you did NOT want as your enemy. Günter's eyes gleamed with challenge.  
"I have a feeling you won't be wanting to try anything stupid," he remarked with a sly grin. As frightening as the prospect of fighting Günter was, Hans refused to let his older brother intimidate him like this. All his life he'd been bullied by those of his siblings bigger and stronger than him. No more.

Lifting his chin slightly into the air and narrowing his eyes, Hans responded boldly.  
"No point in killing you anyway. I'd have to go through each and every one of you in order to assume the Southern Isle's throne, and frankly, that's just too much work,"

_That_ got their attention. An extremely disturbed expression flushed across both of the twins' faces and for a long while, there was nothing but silence. Apparently, they had not prepared for Hans's heart to be so cold towards his own family as to speak of _killing_ them like it was nothing more than trivial conversation. In the end, Hubert was the one to break the silence.

"Have you _truly_ gone mad Hans?" he inquired, his voice croaking with great concern.

It was in that next moment that the coach slowed to a stop. Hans turned his head slowly to look out of the barred window and took in the sight of the castle entrance. The large iron gate cranked loudly with the turning of its heavy chains as it lifted off the ground to open slowly for their passage. Günter folded his arms over his chest, percieving that Hans did not intend on giving any answer. Well Günter had some words for him.

"You're a **disgrace** to our country, and our father's name,"

...

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(Please review! I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter!)


	4. Preparations

_Hello all!_

_Thanks so much for taking the time to read my story. I am truly honored by each review and hope you don't mind that this chapter is a day late. I was super busy yesterday and unfortunately had no time until this morning to post it. Anyway, on with the show..._

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**Tales from the Southern Isles**

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Chapter 3: Preparations

...

A wreckless wind traveled swiftly through the village streets, sweeping and swirling until the breeze wound up the mountain side and broke in a powerful gust against the castle. The massive red drapes which hung about the grand palace windows swayed in response to the sudden draft. The chill swept through the numerous halls and down the magnificent set of stairs to the main entrance hall. It was there that several servants stood waiting quietly. Many of the royal staff within the castle walls had long since retired to their bedchambers and the only ones who remained did not dare speak above a whisper.

There was a heaviness in the air tonight; a tension as thick as fog that no one could quite place, yet was unmistakably there, ominous and looming.

King Fredrik sat within the main throne room, regally seated in his long royal robes upon the King's Chair. With one hand he tightly gripped the stone arm rest, and with the other he clutched a wrinkled letter. King Fredrik must have re-read it fifty times since its arrival, and still he could not fully bring himself to believe its contents. How could one of his own brothers have done something so heinous as attempt to murder the Queen of Arendelle?

To say the news had been devastating would have been the understatement of a life time. In fact, the very knowledge that something like this had even transpired was dangerous. If word of Hans's criminality escaped these castle walls, the entire country would be in an uproar.

A long slow sigh escaped the king's lips and he lifted a wary hand to rub soothing circles at his graying temples. At the age of 48, and with 16 years of experience running a country behind him, Fredrik would say he'd jumped over just about every political obstacle, upheld each of his traditional duties, and negotiated his way out of many a war. All of which had been hard tasks in and of themselves.

_None_ of these held a candle to the crises presented before him now.

"What am I going to do?" Fredrik whispered hopelessly under his breath.  
"Sire!"  
The doors to the throne room burst open and in strode the king's must trusted advisor: his brother.  
"Yes, Konrad," the king answered swiftly, straightening in his chair.

Konrad was two years younger than Fredrik and the two had been close friends since their childhood. Konrad had done much to provide Fredrik with wise and informational council, and was always the voice of calm reason in the midst of stressful and sometimes frustrating circumstances.

Konrad stopped to bow formally before proceeding to speak.  
"Prince Hans has arrived," he informed.

This was the announcement the king had been waiting so anxiously for. Standing abruptly, Fredrik clutched the letter tighter in his hand.  
"You may inform the rest of our brothers, then have him brought to me," he ordered, "And be certain the servants have taken their oaths of secrecy. Anyone who dares leak information regarding Prince Hans shall be labeled a traitor and sent straight to prison," Fredrik commanded.

"Yes my Lord," Prince Konrad nodded, turning on his heel to stride back out and down the long stretch of hallway till he stood before the captain of the royal guard. Konrad passed on the king's commands, which the Captain then proceeded to carry out.

...

The group of servants gathered within the castle's main entrance hall each stood in a nicely formed line, rigid with nervousness as the Captain of the guard approached. Those accounted for among the line numbered only ten. There was the royal butler, the royal house keeper, the royal cook and a member from the kitchen staff, three footmen, and three cleaning maids. All that these staff members had been told prior to their gathering was that they were soon to be privileged with private information.

For the newly hired on, 19 year old cleaning maid named Frida, this was the most amazing thing she'd ever experienced in her entire life. Not a week ago Frida had been nothing more than an inn keeper's daughter, splintering her fingers from all the sweeping and blistering her palms from scrubbing floors. That was before her aunt, a highly respected and trusted maid of the castle, had recommended her a position at her side! And oh, what an amazing opportunity it was. Now, Frida was honored with getting to splinter her fingers and blister her palms on the rich marble floor of a palace instead!

Fifteen minutes of waiting time had passed since the staff had gathered and Frida spent it by fiddling with her apron skirts frivolously then moving her jittery hands upwards to fix what she could of the messy, uncooperative hair that spilled hectically from her bun.

When the sound of the Captain finally making his approach came to her ears, Frida could barely contain her excitement. Biting her lip, she rocked subtly back and forth on her heels only to receive a reprimanding glare from her aunt who stood beside her. Frida forced herself to stand still and took a deep breath. Whatever was about to happen was going to be something special. Something that only she and the people here would ever get to know about.

With hands folded neatly behind his back, the Captain stopped to take his usually authoritative stance, and look the staff over sternly before catching Frida's gaze momentarily. He took some time scrutinizing her, noting her unmistakably pretty face, her chocolate brown eyes, creamy white skin and raven black hair. It was likely that he had never seen her before, since she was so new to the staff, and he felt it necessary to analyze her suitability before proceeding with the more important matters.

Though she felt an immense amount of pressure under the Captain's hard stare, Frida managed to maintain a humble facade about her that was both admirable and becoming. As result, it was only a moment later before the Captain finished his inspection of her and cleared his throat to address the group before him.

"Each of you are being entrusted with the news that Prince Hans has returned this night from his travels to Arendelle. Due to a certain series of events, the prince has fallen into bad favor with the king and council. You are here for the sole purpose of swearing that you will not breathe a word of anything you may come to hear within these castle walls to anyone, within or beyond the premises," he said sternly.

Frida's eyes gleamed with instant curiosity.

"Should any one of you make the unwise decision to break this vow, you shall be labeled a traitor to king and country and imprisoned for an indefinite amount of time. Do I make myself clear?" the Captain questioned, his dark, soul piercing eyes cutting into each and every one of the staff. A series of "yes sir"s issued from the group.

Frida did not hesitate a moment to lift her hand and recite her vows along with the others, and once it was all done with, they were dismissed. Amidst the bustle of staff splitting into a frenzy of separate directions, Frida's mind was adrift. She had not yet seen this Prince Hans, nor had she any idea of what he was like. Then again, she didn't have much idea of what _any_ of the princes were like. Being that she was nothing but a meager cleaning maid, she and the others of her station always kept clear out of the royal family's way, as it was the appropriate thing to do. Therefore, any information Frida was given about the princes was tidbits here and there of broken conversations between her aunt and other maid servants. And that wasn't much.

In fact, Frida seemed to learn more of the royal's outside the castle walls than she ever did within it. Every one of the staff seemed to think that it was their duty to prevent rumors from spreading and information from being passed on, even if it was perfectly harmless. None the less, the last time Frida had attempted to ask any questions had been five days ago...

()()()

"Is Prince Ralph really the snob every one says he is?"

_Whack_

"Is it true that Prince Günter was once able to defeat 100 men in battle with only a picket fence and a shovel?"

_Whack_

"I heard from the girls in town that Prince Otto has two golden teeth!"

_Whack Whack_

"Are all the princes required to say their prayers before bed time, like ordinary people?"

_Whack Whack Whack! _

"For MERCIES _sake_ child! Why you be askin' all these ridiculous questions about the majesties? It's not healthy to have your mind so fixated on people and things that are above your stature and forever will be!" an older, albeit a bit grouchy, woman huffed, lifting the strong twig in her hand to shake it warningly towards her nosy niece.

Frida pouted, standing off to the side and watching as her aunt resumed her unmerciful beating upon the palace rugs which currently hung over a low tree branch in the royal garden. Dust and dirt puffed from off the fabric with each strike, filthying the air.

"But Aunt Sophia, they are only harmless questions," Frida argued, "Is it so bad a thing that I am fascinated by my employers? If I am to be here, serving tirelessly under them, I would like to think I have the right to know _some_ things about the royal family,"

"You thought wrong. You are here to work and to work well! The king and princes deserve good servants who do what they are supposed to. Now get to it," Aunt Sophia snapped. Frida sighed and rolled her eyes up in defeat, turning to commence with her own carpet beating.

()()()

Since then, Frida had learned the hard way that interrogating her aunt on royal matters was a complete waist of time and effort. If she were to ever learn the truth about any of the princes, she would simply have to make these discoveries for herself, and that was all there was to it.

Taking a deep, determined breath of air, Frida marched forward after her aunt, who had just trotted on up the elaborate stair case leading to the second floor. They needed to finish preparations for Prince Han's room, and be quick about it. Together, Frida and her Aunt Sophia worked to lay fresh bed sheets out and thoroughly dust the furniture. At some point during the preparations, one of the other maids rushed into the room to quietly squeal,  
"The Prince is here! Look! Look down there!"

Frida raced to the nearest bedroom window where she goggled down into the dark and gloomy court yard. Surely enough, a black carriage had just pulled in and it rounded the castle's large water fountain before coming to a halt at the edge of the palace entrance stairs. Frida felt her heart beat pound faster in eager anticipation.

Finally, she would get to see this Prince Hans, the youngest of the thirteen, and supposedly rumored to be the most _handsome_...

...

* * *

_Enter... my OC. So folks, what do you think of her? She's got some spunk, some attitude, and much more personality traits to come! Please leave a review and let me know your thoughts! _


	5. The Welcoming Party

_Hey guys!  
You all have been so awesome with your reviews! I'm super excited about this story myself and it's wonderful to see my readers just as eager for new chapters as I am in putting them out!_

* * *

**Tales From the Southern Isles**

* * *

Chapter 4: The Welcoming Party

...

When the carriage horses' hooves finally clipped their last clop upon the castle courtyard's stone path way, Hans repositioned himself to sit a little higher in his seat, primping what he could of his filthy and disheveled clothes.

If there was one thing he would not tolerate, even while in handcuffs, it was his garb looking anything _less_ than prince worthy. Günter smirked mockingly at him while he preened, but Hans payed no mind. After all, he had no idea in whom he would come face to face with tonight, be it the great King Fredrik himself, or any of the other despicable brothers who should care to grace him with their special presence at this late hour.

Two royal guards approached the carriage and pulled back the doors with a loud creak.

Hans glanced to Günter and Hubert but they both gestured that he get out first. Taking in a determined breath through his nose, Hans narrowed his eyes and got to his feet. He allowed the guards to grab him by the wrists and escort him out of the carriage, all the while comforting himself with the thought of getting to spend a night in his own bedroom. Just because he was going to be a prisoner within it didn't change the fact that it was still one thousand times better than some infernal prison.

The castle's front entrance, which Hans was excellently familiar with, now seemed foreign and frightening in the dark of the night. Its large set of wooden double doors and the grand stone stairs leading up to them stood oppressively tall, as if wanting to make certain that Hans knew he was not worthy to traverse them.

However, Hans was not one to be easily shamed. In fact, he could not recall being subject to guilt at any time in his entire life. Self-pity yes; he practically lived in self-pity, but never in remorse over his actions. Even now, Hans refused to feel repentant for his crimes. He believed his actions to have been well justified and though things had not worked out the way he had planned, he knew that if he had the chance to go back and do things over, he would have tried again. And again and again.

Nothing would slake his lust for power and respect. _Nothing_.

The double doors were opened by a pair of armed palace guards stationed at either side and Hans and his two brothers were led into the elaborate entrance hall.  
"Alright, take him straight to his room," Günter ordered to the soldiers tightly latched to Hans's arms.

"Wait a moment," interrupted a hushed voice.

From the dimly lit hall, emerged a short man in long, professional red robes. The candle lamps hanging on the walls cast a flickering light across the man's serious face, revealing him to his brothers.  
"The King has requested that Hans be brought to him immediately," Konrad announced.  
"Prince Hans is in the foulest of tempers and does not deserve to be properly presented to our brother the king in this state," Günter argued.

"He tried to kill the Queen of Arendelle, I don't think Fredrik is expecting that Hans be in the _friendliest_ of moods right now," Konrad deadpanned.

Hans couldn't hide his small smirk at the frustrated look on Günter's face. Finally, Günter sighed in defeat and waved away his cares on the matter.  
"So be it," he relinquished, "I am going to bed," he grunted, turning for the stairs. Hubert lingered only a moment longer to stare at Hans sadly before following his twin. With the two brothers now gone, the guards tightened their grip on Hans's arm before making him to walk with Prince Konrad down the hall.

"Do attempt to behave in front of the king. Your life currently hangs by a thin thread and whether you like it or not, Fredrik holds the string," Konrad whispered warningly. Hans ground his jaw tightly but said nothing.  
"Also, it is late, so try not to raise your voice," Konrad added. Hans hated that he was being read the rules as if he were some incompetent child. A psychopath maybe, but _not_ a child. Hans was only able to calm his festering fury by picturing a mental image of himself delivering a smashing right fist to Konrad's face. That helped to entertain his mind long enough to ensure that is mouth stayed shut as they walked on.

When they reached the end of the hall and the throne room doors were opened for them, Hans was forced to squint at the intense brightness of the room before adjusting his eyes to the scene before him...

King Fredrik sat high on his throne chair, scepter in hand and golden crown placed neatly atop his graying curly locks. Beside the throne stood eight Princes of the Southern Isles.

They stood in their customary way, oldest to youngest, all maintaining their typical postures and each dressed in night robes. Konrad crossed the room to take his place at the front of the line where he stood closest to the throne. To his right stood Prince Axel, then came the empty gap that Günter and Hubert should have inhabited, followed by Prince Otto, Prince Emil, Prince Lars, Prince Ralph, Prince Bosse, Prince Viggo, and lastly, Prince Nels.

Some of them held their arms tucked neatly behind their backs while others folded them in front of their chests. Some stood with their legs wide apart, while others were close together. They possessed an assortment of various hair and eye colors but despite their different appearances and sizes, the one thing they all had in common was the amount of disgust that came into their eyes the moment Hans entered.

There had been plenty of times in which Hans had gotten into trouble in the past, and he'd received many a glare for them, but never before had he faced the full force of so many fierce stares at once. The amount of hatred aimed towards him was so powerful he could feel it ripping into the deepest part of his soul, penetrating through all his pride enforced barriers and thrashing his confidence so viciously that his knees began to buckle.

The guards at his sides released their hold on his arms and backed away, leaving Hans to stand in the center of the throne room fully exposed and vulnerable before his king and family. All passion to fight and to rebel had somehow flown from him and he could feel nothing but the cold churning of fear in his stomach.

"Hans," King Fredrik spoke firmly, his strong, rich voice echoing off the palace walls, "What have you done?"

The question struck Hans like a punch to the gut. What _had_ he done? He had betrayed his country and his family in the pursuit of fulfilling his own selfish desires at the near cost of someone's _life_. A _queen's_ life. That's what he had done.

It took the youngest Prince a good long moment to recover from this resounding blow to his conscience. The silence streamed on, tension hanging putridly in the air.

"Well?" the king pressed.

Well _what?_

What did Fredrik want him to say? That he was sorry? That he had been wrong and that he deserved whatever punishment they deemed fitting? No doubt that was _exactly_ what his brothers were wanting to hear. They always reveled in making him cow down and admit to their superiority. Admit to their authority over his life and succumb to playing the part of the quiet, well mannered little prince they wanted him to be. With sick realization, Hans saw that he was letting _it_ happen all over again. He was letting himself be bullied and intimidated.

The king's grip tightened on his scepter.

"Hans, what do you have to say for yourself?" he demanded impatiently.

Hans's inner rage had now heated to a boil. Narrowing his brows together, a sour scowl twitched its way to the corner of Hans's mouth.

"What do I have to say?" he repeated, "I'd say that I've had a very long, very disappointing journey, and though it was real thoughtful of you all to arrange this little welcoming party, I'd rather be excused to catch up on some sleep,"

In the next instant, the throne room erupted with angry rebuttals and outraged cries from the group of princes.  
"You think this is a welcoming party you spoiled rotten brat?!" Emil blared.  
"How can you be so childish!" Ralph gaped.  
"Let me at him! I'll put him to sleep!" Bo growled, trying to get out of the arm brace Viggo kept him in.  
"Such disrespect!" Axel rebuked, "How dare you!"  
"He's.. he's gone completely nuts!" Lars sputtered.  
"Some fine prince you grew up to be! First trip away from home and you've single handedly managed to destroy relations with one of our most trusted allied countries!" Emil shouted, his thin face flaring red.

The king remained silent as the clash of raised voices and furious roars raged on.

Hans stood still as stone, a hardened expression chiseled onto his face. His brothers could say whatever they wanted and he would be completely unmoved. It was nothing that he hadn't endured during the course of his entire life. As far as he was concerned, they could scream and shout to their hearts' content, but he was not about to humble himself and admit that he did _anything_ wrong.

"Alright, quiet, quiet everyone," Konrad commanded, lifting his hands to get all of the brothers' attention. It took several more attempts before any semblance of quiet was achieved. When the brothers had calmed down somewhat, the king resumed speaking.

"It is apparent to me that you are still far too imatture to comprehend the seriousness of the matter at hand. As of yesterday, it was decided that the news of your actions will be temporarily concealed from the public until a proper explanation of your actions has been given and a punishment decided. The council is gathering tomorrow morning to discuss your fate in this very room and you _will_ be there," Fredrik stated strictly, "If you have _any_ ounce of self respect remaining, I suggest you think long and hard about the statement you are planning to make in your defense, because the one I just heard was digradingly pathetic and _low_,"

This statement from the king brought several "oooooh"s to issue from a few of the brothers, mostly from Bo and Viggo. Hans merely shot them a couple of murderous glares before refocussing back on Fredrik.

"I _guarantee_ you, I'll have _more_ than enough to say in my defense," Hans growled warningly.

"I look forward to hearing it," Fredrik responded coolly, settling back in his throne chair.

"We all do," Emil put in, folding his arms proudly in front of his chest.

"I _bet_ you do," Hans hissed.

"Enough," Konrad interrupted, "I think it's time we leave the king in peace and all retire to our bedrooms. I'm sure Hans isn't the only one in need of some sleep,"

Murmurs of agreement were mumbled and one by one, the brothers began to turn out of the throne room. Each was sure to shoot Hans a scathing look as they passed to leave, Emil's expression of emphatic disapproval being the worst by far. Hans hated that jerk and was just barely able to refrain from the temptation to stick his tongue out at the good-for-nothing, snot-nosed boot-licker. Then Nels passed by, and Hans was actually taken back by the clear picture of sorrow and pity on his brother's face.

Of the whole group, Nels had been silent the entire time, not offering a single accusation or complaint. This puzzled Hans deeply, but his deliberation on the matter was cut short when Konrad approached lastly.

"Come on, I'll take you to your room," Konrad offered wearily.

"How kind of you," Hans sneered.  
"Watch that forked tongue of yours _boy_," Konrad warned gruffly as he started down the hall, "It will get you no where with me, or the rest of the council, _that_ I can assure you..."

...

* * *

_Well, there ya go! Hope you liked the chapter and there will be a lot more information and character development for the other brothers coming up! _

_However, if you are interested in having the complete list of Princes, their ages, personality traits and castle duties right NOW, PM me and I will send em to ya. :) _


	6. A Royal Encounter

_Chapter 5 guys! I'm so happy I've remained mostly consistent! Usually I get bored and move on to something else but I am seriously determined to do this story until it is completely finished. All of your reviews have been a major help in fueling me to keep going, so thank you all! _

* * *

**Tales From the Southern Isles**

* * *

Chapter 5: A Royal Encounter

...

The moment the alleged Prince Hans stepped out from the shadowy depths of his menacingly black carriage, Frida's breath caught in her chest. Her brows lifted and her eyes dilated in fascination.

_Ohhh boy. He's definitely handsome... _she mused with a sigh.

Her hot breath fogged the window glass and Frida lifted a sleeve in frustration to rub it away before she resumed her spying.

Though it was dark and most of the prince's face was shadowed, Frida could distinctly make out his solidly determined jaw line, the attractive tip of his nose and the soft sweep of his hair line. He had a proud way of carrying himself and a stride that spoke volumes about his rebellious nature. He appeared to be in his early twenties and possessed all the physical attributes that women best appreciated.

Frida felt no shame in greedily ogling him. Never before had she seen a man who could match the looks of this young prince and the mere opportunity to gaze upon such a specimen was a rare treat.

"Frida! _Wipe_ that **_silly_** smile off your face and finish with the drapes!"

Yipping, she jumped in fright, spinning around to face her aunt who stood with hands on hips at the room entrance door way.

"Yes, yes, of course," she replied obediently, tearing herself reluctantly away from the window sill to continue clipping up the freshly clean drapes. The job was half way done as it was so Frida didn't see the rush, but she dare not say so.

"Goodness sakes alive... I don't know what I'm going to do with you..." Aunt Sophia groaned, walking out of the room. Frida clipped up a couple more of the drapery rings before the sound of male voices echoing down from the hall caught at her attention. Frida paused in her work, a curiosity tugging at her soul. Biting her lip, Frida abandoned the drapes for a moment in order to peek and see who was talking. Upon glancing out into the hall way, she perceived that it was only two footmen.

"The princes haven't all been gathered in once place since the King's birthday party last year," one whispered.  
"It means double the work and double the night shifts," the other replied gruelingly, "At least none of us are responsible for taking care of Prince Hans. I heard he will be guarded inside of his room like a prisoner and be left to tend to himself,"  
"What on earth could he have done to get into such trouble?" the first footman inquired.  
"Do you think there was some sort of scandal with the Queen of Arendelle?"

Frida listened to the quiet whispers and frowned, not liking the assumptions being made. Unable to refrain from comment she stepped out to make herself known.  
"Shame on you two," she berated, storming up to shake a finger at them, leaning into their personal space, "How dare you suggest such things about our Prince? I don't want to hear another word from either of your mouths about the matter, now move along! Don't you have something to do aside from indulging in gossip like a bunch of school girls?"

Both of the footmen blinked, appalled at her brash behavior and her quickness to correct them.  
"Take it easy Frida," the first one, and the tallest, responded, "It was just a bit of talk, that's all. Not like we mean any harm," he defended. Before Frida could respond, a set of cleaning maids scurried down the hall towards them, their skirts swishing softly.

"You'll never guess," one gasped, catching her breath, "I just spoke with the cook's assistant, and he said he could hear the princes shouting in the throne room all the way from the kitchen!"

"He said they sounded positively furious!" added the second maid.  
"Did he happen to hear what they were saying?" the tallest footmen asked curiously.  
"He didn't mention anything particular," the first maid replied, "Just that things were getting as hot as a boiler in that throne room,"

Frida bit her lip. She wasn't sure what all of this meant but it sounded like Prince Hans really _was_ in deep trouble.  
"What's this?!" barked a sudden voice. "Are we all taking a break here?!" The head housemaid snapped from down the hall. She lifted her hands to shoo at them, "Get back to your jobs this instant!" she ordered. The staff scattered like frightened mice and returned to their posts, including Frida who darted into Prince Hans's room like the fire's of hell were roaring at her heels.

She strove to finish clipping up the drapes as quickly as possible and once she was done, she spun to flee the room. However, as she crossed out of the bedroom, she ordered herself to a stop. She'd done the drapes rather speedily and she feared in her haste it hadn't been the best job. Turning carefully, she walked back to inspect them and grimaced. They did look rather... sloppy. Would it cost her her job if she left it that way? Aunt Sophia had insisted that every little task be done with the best care, and sighing, Frida knew this was no exception. Still, she must hurry, for the Prince Hans could be brought to his room any minute now.

Readjusting the curtains in a more dignified fashion, Frida smiled to herself. Regardless if Prince Hans was a rebellious scoundrel, as his character was being made out to be, she sure wouldn't mind catching sight of him again...

That was when the sound of many footsteps came rumbling down the hall.

_But not right now! _Frida finished her thought and spun to collect her cleaning things. Swiping up her feather duster and the dirty rags, she raced for the door but she was too late. The sight of the guards invaded the space not but three feet from the door way, cutting off her escape. Without thinking, Frida threw herself behind the bedroom door and pressed herself as tightly as she could against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut and not breathing.

_Do not panic... _

_Do not panic..._

_No need to panic..._

She was panicking. Cleaning servants were _never_ supposed to be seen by the royal family. They were to be managed and given their duties by the leading staff members only, and were to complete their tasks in complete privacy, unheard and unseen. Like ghosts. If she was caught now, she would loose her job for sure!

...

By the time Prince Hans had been escorted up all those stairs, he was beginning to feel the weariness set into his leg muscles. The closer to his bedroom he became, the more prepared he was to let his knees give out altogether. Just the thought of his soft, goose-feather pillows and king size bed caused his eyelids to grow heavy. Finally, when they had arrived at the designated door on the second floor, Prince Konrad turned to look Hans over.

"Before you entertain ideas of doing anything stupid tonight, I'd like you to remember your window is a good 200 hundred feet from the ground... and there are no ledges to help you down. There will be two guards stationed just outside your barred door that will be here all night to make sure you stay put. And if any suspicious sounds come out of that bedroom, Günter has volunteered to investigate personally. In short, don't even think about running," Konrad stated stiffly. For a long moment the two brothers just stared at each other. Then, out of no where, Hans did the unthinkable.

He started chuckling.

It started off soft, and then grew louder.

After all he had just been through today, and for the past week, he was actually _laughing_! No doubt it was the exhaustion that had finally gotten to him.

Konrad seemed perturbed by the action as well, so Hans cut it off, rubbing a hand across his face.  
"You actually think I'm planning on _running_ anywhere? Do you have any idea how tired I am right now?" Hans snorted, "I couldn't make it up a second case of stairs much less climb down the castle wall from my window!"

"You've done it before," Konrad pointed out with a frown.

"Well, as of this moment, you are vastly overestimating my abilities! I don't know whether to be flattered or if you're just insanely paranoid,"

"_That's_ enough," Konrad snapped, gesturing he be silent, "As of now, you are still considered a prisoner and you will be treated as such until your court trial tomorrow morning. It will take place at 8 am. I will have a footman sent in to help dress you in something suitable. Good night," he finished, turning to walk curtly away before Hans could offer up anymore snide remarks. With a stiff lip, Hans walked into his bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, Hans's eyes swept over the room and the familiar furniture. He had only been here no more than three weeks ago yet it felt like an eternity. However, before any cosy thoughts of feeling at home entered his mind, the swing of his door shutting and a lock being applied from the outside quickly snapped him back into reality. This was nothing more than his cell till morning. No matter how nice or comfortable it was.

With a loud sigh and furrowed brows, Hans began to remove his coat before tossing it carelessly over his desk chair. Next he untied his cravat from around his neck, then he unbuttoned his tight shirt collar, followed by the removing of his outer vest. Words could not express how happy he was to finally be out of these dirty rags. The fabric all stank like bilge water and body odor, not to mention they looked like he had been rolling around in a pigsty. He threw all his clothe articles to the ground as he undressed, at this point too tired to care where they landed. All he wanted was to get in bed. A bath could wait till morning.

Hans had meandered over to his window while he continued stripping and now stood with his shirt collar open, letting the cold night air whip at his hair and refresh his flushed skin.

He honestly had not expected to see all of his brothers at once. His six eldest were married and all had families of their own in different districts of the land. It was rare that they all got together in one place unless it was for something special like the King's birthday party. He was _really_ in a lot of trouble. Hans laughed lightly to himself and lifted a hand to rub tiredly at the back of his neck. Would he be hanged for his crimes? The idea wasn't appealing. If it came to that he just might run. But would his brothers be so heartless? He told himself he should expect them to be. After all, they'd never taken things easy on him before, so why should they start now? Especially after a crime such as his?

Shaking his head, the prince turned around to finish removing his shirt when he suddenly paused mid way. A maid was standing with her back pressed flush up against the door to his bedroom, her eyes wide in fear. Her skin was pale, black hair disheveled from its work bun and her posture rigid.

Their eyes met and Hans froze. She appeared to be young, in her mid teens perhaps and her arms were stuffed with cleaning supplies. As they continued to stare, her expression slowly began changing from one of terror to pure mortification. Had she been in here the whole time just watching him? She must have been, the door was locked from the outside. Hans swallowed. Not only was that downright awkward but it was a complete invasion of his privacy!

Slowly, Hans tilted his head to the side.  
"Who are you and why are you in my bedroom?" he questioned, finally finding his voice. The only thing keeping him from shouting in anger at her intrusion was the fact that she looked so gosh darn scared.

...

Frida could hardly breathe.

From the moment the prince had walked inside, and the door had been shut, followed by the distinct sound of bolts being put into place, she knew she had gotten herself effectively trapped. Frida had looked back and forth desperately for a place to hide but there was no way she could move without drawing attention to herself. Prince Hans's back was facing her now, but he could turn around any moment. Frida stayed stone still, her muscles locked in place, her arms tightly clenching her cleaning materials against her chest.

What would a royal do to a member of their cleaning staff, should they be seen or, much worse, get trapped in a room together?!

_Breathe Frida! Just breathe! Everything will be fine... Just breathe... just- OH GOD. _

The prince was now beginning to undress and he still hadn't seen her. First came his coat, then his waist sash, followed by his neck ties.

Frida slammed her eyes shut forcing herself not to watch anymore and start praying to the dear, great, _merciful_ Lord! She kept her eyes closed tightly for a good long while until she heard his footsteps and her heart beat intensified. Flashing her eyes open, she realized that the prince had only walked over to his window. He still hadn't seen her.

_Think Frida, think! There has to be someway to get out of here! Your __job depends on it, your future depends on it! _

Turning from side to side frantically, Frida sought a place under the large king side bed. If she were fast enough she could wedge underneath without being seen and hide there until he was asleep. Then she could see if there was any way down that window... Merciful _Heavens, _he was taking off his shirt now! Slowly, trembling with anxiety, Frida slid her way against the door, moving ever closer for the bed and doing her utmost not to be seen or heard. Then he turned.

Shocked eyes locked on petrified ones. Frida felt the very warmth of her body drain from her skin. He was gorgeous and half undressed with a stupefied impression on his handsome face. Frida was a quaking, shivery, black and white mess of maid's clothes and dirty rags. She kissed her job goodbye.

"Who are you and why are you in my bedroom?" he asked, pulling himself out of his stupor and addressing her with strong displeasure. Frida swallowed.

Who was she again?

Her brain had jumped ship and was leaving her stranded alone on an island with a prince she hardly knew how to act around, much less speak to! Not to mention, he was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on and her emotions were doing funny things to her right now. A mixture of awe and absolute terror just about explained her state. But he'd asked her a question, and she better well answer it!

She couldn't get her lips to to stop quivering.

"Fr-rr-Fri-"

"What?" he snapped impatiently, clearly very upset with her. As he had every right to be. She was in _his_ room! She cleared her throat, rallying for a second attempt.

"Frida," she squeaked, "I'm a cleaning maid..."

...

* * *

_Well there you go folks! Thanks for reading and be sure to leave a review! _

_ Have a wonderful Christmas Eve and a Merry Christmas everybody! _


	7. Secrets

_Hello everybody! _

_I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and a happy New Year! I took a few days off from this story because I was busy with the holidays, and I probably will continue to have a loopy schedule of updating for a little while yet. That said, my goal is to update at least once every week! Hopefully more than that. _

_Thank you for all your reviews, and I just wanted to state to those of you who are wary about my OC Frida, or OC's in general: _

_First off, I make my romances as real as possible, with believable relationship progressions and relatable emotions, not flimsy or weak excuses put there for the sake of getting two characters together. Secondly, there is a purpose for Frida's character beyond the mere role of a love interest. I don't like creating characters who are just "there" for romance sake. I like each of them to have significance to the story, and believe me, she is very significant. _

_So, with that explained, I hope I put your worries to rest and that you feel free to enjoy the story! _

* * *

**Tales From The Southern Isles**

* * *

Chapter 6: Secrets

...

_Tick **tock**_

_Tick **tock**_

_Tick **tock**_

The ancient old clock hanging on the wall was the only sound that dared fill the dead silence. It's rhythmic clicking echoed in Prince Hans's ears, whispering a soft reminder to him about how late it was and how he really should be in bed right now. Hans's eyes were tired, his body was sore, and his brain could hardly function. His bed was a mere two yards away, beckoning to him with its soft ocean of sweet smelling, clean white sheets.

But no. Instead, he had to deal with this... this insolent _cleaning maid! _

Staring at her now, Hans couldn't quite figure if it was just mere bad luck that continued to put him into these vexing situations, or if it were specifically interwoven within the fabric of his destiny to be confronted with a challenge everywhere he turned.

The cleaning maid, who called herself _Frida_, swallowed and took a frightened step backwards. Hans's gaze must have been harder on her than he'd realized because she appeared as if she were expecting him to give her a slap across the face. He shook his head warily and cleared his throat, praying to God that his tone would come out sounding somewhat civilized.

"Why are you in my room?" he questioned. There was a moment of hesitation where he studied the girl closely only to notice that her gaze had briefly glanced down to his partway unbuttoned shirt. Hans felt a stab of embarrassment and quickly gathered his shirt tightly about himself.  
"Well?" he demanded. Good grief, he sounded just like his older brother had not 15 minutes ago!

Frida opened her mouth, once then twice, but nothing came out until finally...

"I... I was cleaning... your highness and-"

Shimmery tears had begun to brim in the young maid's eyes and quite suddenly she flung herself forward, spilling the contents in her arms to the floor as she bowed face down in front of him.  
"I'm so sorry. Please forgive me your majesty," she cried into the ground, "I took too long with the drapes and I didn't have time to leave before your highness entered! I tried to hide, so I could escape unseen and instead I became trapped in here! It was not intended! You must believe me! Please have mercy!" she moaned desperately.

Hans, completely floundered, hastily stepped backwards to get away from the emotional girl at his feet. What was he supposed to do now? He had a hysterical maid trapped with him in his bedroom and Konrad had made it clear that Günter would be the one breaking and entering should the sound of any funny business be reported. The last thing he wanted right now was another ordeal. He just wanted to go to sleep! Was that too much to ask around here?!

"Calm.. calm down," he tried to say, but the maid continued on.

"I beg of you not to dismiss me from my job! I'm doing the very best I can and Aunt Sophia will be so disappointed in me... I've made a lot of progress up until now! I really have! This castle is the most wonderful place and you have no idea how deeply my dreams shall be shattered if you send me away!"  
"Alright, that's enough!" Hans ordered, his voice tight and strained. "Unless you stay _quiet_, the guards will enter and it won't be pleasant," he grumbled. The maid stayed on the floor, sniffling and trying to hold back tears.

Seeing her frightened and quavering form before him made Hans's temper begin to abate ever so slightly. It had been an accident, obviously, and it was clear that the young woman felt awful. The least he could do was cut her a little bit of a break. Sighing, he rubbed his temples.

"You can get off the floor," he said. The maid remained still.  
"Seriously, please get up," Hans persisted, his patience thinning. Slowly, Frida lifted her head and began to sit up. She had stopped crying but evidence of the tears which had been shed still shimmered in the faintly flickering candle light of the room.

"How long have you been working here?" Hans inquired, once the maid had come to a full stand.  
"Nearly three weeks now, your majesty," she answered quietly, looking down at her feet and refusing to meet his gaze. Hans took the time to analyze her carefully.

She was not all that bad looking for a servant, commoner that she was. Despite her red eyes, disheveled condition and loosely pinned black locks, he certainly would have remembered her if he'd seen her before, not that cleaning maids were ever noticed within the castle. They kept out of sight all the time and did a good job of doing so. This was the first time Hans could remember ever seeing a cleaning maid and speaking with one privately. Perhaps this was a good time to bring up a complaint he had about the far left edge of his window cill that he noticed never seemed to be fully dusted... ? No, probably not.

Hans sighed through his nostrils, pressing his lips firmly together. He had a decision to make here. He could easily make a ruckus and have Günter and the guards enter to remove the maid, but how would that look? Having the womanizing reputation that he now had... with his whole plot in tricking the princess of Arendelle and all... It just wouldn't be good. What kind of wild rumors and assumptions would be made with the news of a maid having been found trapped in his private chambers during the night? No.

NO.

That was definitely _not_ an option. He was in deep enough trouble as it was without _those_ kind of accusations being pressed against him. He would most certainly have to sneak her out of here. Somehow...

Frida was still staring at the floor, waiting quietly while he considered his options. No doubt she feared the worst, and was expecting that he intended to fire her. With a deep breath, Hans spoke.

"I've decided that I am not going to have you released from your job. This entire mix up is an accident, and therefore you are not to blame," he stated calmly.

...

The prince's words were like a drink of fresh water after she'd been sprawled out in a dry desert for hours. Frida dropped to her knees in overabundant gratitude.  
"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" she blubbered in tears of joy. She simply couldn't believe that a man, so much more noble than she, would care enough to overlook her major blunder! She didn't have to worry about loosing her job, and the relief that flooded into her heart spilled out from her eyes.

"Get up," he ordered sharply, cutting her celebration time short. Apparently he did not like it when she knelt to the floor. Frida had thought that was the proper, respectful thing to do, but he didn't seem to appreciate it very much. Grimacing, she made herself to stand back up, hoping she hadn't succeeded in making an entirely pathetic fool of herself. She risked a timid glance up at his majesty but to her surprise and perplexity, she watched as Prince Hans crossed the room towards the window and opened the glass panes to lean over the ledge and stare down. A small frown crinkled onto her features as she wondered what on earth he was doing. After a moment, Hans turned back around and gestured for her to come over. Biting her lip, Frida tip toed forward until she reached the side of the window.

"If I concocted a means to lower you down by, could you descend that alright?" he asked, motioning out the window. Frida merged herself forward to peer past the ledge at the exceedingly far drop. Her eyes bulged and her throat went dry. Odd. She couldn't remember having problems with heights before... but then again, she'd never considered having to face them in any kind of dangerous way.

"I beg your pardon?" she gaped, clutching at her chest and stepping backwards. Her heart had begun to race at the mere prospect of being lowered down that frightfully tall castle wall! What could he possibly be _thinking? _

"Wait a minute.. Oh never mind, there will probably be guards waiting down there and they'll no doubt catch you," the prince groaned, clenching his fists by his sides. Frida was confused yet thankful that she was no longer faced with the absurd requirement of climbing down a castle wall.

"Why not just get the guards to open the door?" she questioned tentatively, pointing over towards the bedroom entrance.

"_Because_," Hans turned to glare at her, "I am a prisoner in this room, in case you didn't know, and the only reason those doors will be opening is if the guards think I'm doing something horrible. And when they do, my furious brothers will barge in here to make the biggest fuss you've ever heard," he snapped back. Frida shrunk away from the prince's angry tone and bitter explanation. She would admit, that didn't sound very fun at all.

"I'm tired from a long journey," the prince continued, "I'm mentally ravaged from all this stress and quite frankly, I don't need any more rumors flying around this castle about me and some maid that was found trapped in my quarters,"

Frida felt a pang of guilt thud against her heart. The prince had probably gone through more than she could ever imagine, and here she was, being an utter nuisance. Clearly, Prince Hans was pushing his own energy limits, and she didn't want to be of any further burden to him. If it hadn't been for those darn drapes!

"I'm sorry," she murmured gently, daring to lift her gaze to his exhausted one. "Maybe if I just talked with the guards they would under-"

"No, _no_," the prince swept his hands in the air, cutting off any further debate on the matter, "You will simply have to stay the night somewhere in here and wait until morning to sneak out," he stated stiffly. Frida swallowed. The idea of spending the night inside the same room of any man terrified her. It wasn't proper, and she didn't feel right about it. Looking around the room, she considered her options. The only places adjoining to the bedroom were his royal closet, and the bathroom. Sleeping in a bathroom didn't sound suitable in the least, but the closet didn't seem too bad. After all, it was a very _large_ closet with plenty of space on the floors for her to lie down and a fine pair of drapes hung about either side that could be let down to give her the privacy she desired.

"I'll stay in the closet then, if that is alright," Frida suggested tiredly.

The prince stared at her a moment, contemplating. At last, he nodded.  
"Very well," he turned on his heel to approach his bed where he grabbed a couple of pillows from the mountain of perfectly arranged plush comfort, and tossed them over at her. Frida caught them with a small yip of surprise. Next came a blanket which landed on top of her head. She stiffened in surprise, shocked at the prince's brash and somewhat rude behavior, before tugging it away from her face with a huff. She understood that he was tired, but he didn't have to act like a five year old.

Hans then sat down at the edge of his bed and began removing his boots. He glanced to her.  
"Leave me now. You are not to emerge from that closet until I say so. When we part ways, you won't mention a _single_ word about any of this, at all. Or I will make certain that you loose your job," he commanded, his eyes narrowed sharply at her.

Frida took a steadying breath, refusing to succumb to the slight frustration she felt bubbling inside her chest at his threat. It was entirely unnecessary to treat her so basely. Who would she be wanting to tell that she'd stayed the night in the prince's bedroom? The result of doing such a thing would only paint horrible stains on her sparkly clean reputation! She had _some_ dignity! She had her moral! How dare the prince think so lowly of her just because she was a servant! Frida was just about to say so, when she recalled the tiny fact that this was a prince in whom she was speaking with, and not some cleaning staff member she could shout out. She had to keep cool! No doubt it was her own wariness from the night's strange events that was getting to her.

"Yes, your _highness_," she replied, curtsying slowly before turning for the closet, pillows and blanket in hand. Once inside, she slid the curtains closed behind her and let out a shaky breath. The closet was a good six yards long, and positively packed full of clothes and boots. The floor of the closet had a rug, thankfully, over the stone floor, so Frida plopped her pillows on it and removed her apron and boots before lying down. How awkward of a situation she was in! Her ability to get into the deepest trouble without even trying was absolutely astonishing! The floor was stiff and considerably harder to adjust on then she'd thought. On top of her discomfort, her heart continued to hammer nervously in her chest. Despite assuring herself things would be fine, her eyes continued to stare at the closet drapes, thinking of the man, no... the _nobleman_ on the other side.

Pulling her blanket up over herself, Frida whimpered. What would her aunt say should she ever learn of this? Worse, what would her _parents_ say? Even though she knew the situation was beyond her control, she couldn't help but feel defiled and guilty. With so many worrisome thoughts swirling in her mind, Frida wondered if she would ever fall to sleep.

...

_Knock Knock Knock_

The pound of knuckles on the bedroom door jerked Hans from his deep slumber. He couldn't remember what time he'd actually fallen to sleep, but his body told him he hadn't had enough. His eyelids refused to open, and the banging on his door only made his head throb. Rolling over, Hans buried his face further into his pillow, groaning softly.

"Hans, I'm coming in," came a familiar voice from the other side of the door. The sound of the door locks being removed and then swinging open disrupted all Hans's hopes of having a few more quiet morning moments to himself. He didn't yet want to think of all the things that awaited him this day.

"Hans? Come on now, you have to get up," came the same soft voice. Hans rolled over and forced his eyes open, pushing up to brace himself on his hands. Once the blurriness was blinked from his eyes, he realized who was in his room. He had expected a footman would come in and help him with his attire at some point, but this was no footman.

"Nels?" he asked, groggily.

The dark haired young man of 23 stood awkwardly with a small smile on his lips in the middle of the room.  
"Good morning brother," he greeted, "I hope you don't mind, but I told the footmen that I would be helping you this morning," he explained. Hans frowned, confused at the strange act of kindness. Or was it?  
"It's fine..." he responded slowly, now removing his covers and placing his feet on the ground.  
"How are you?" Nels inquired.  
"Tired," Hans snorted.  
"Well, I can imagine, but I mean... what's going through your mind right now?" Nels asked carefully. Hans shot him a sharp glare.  
"I'm thinking I don't want you asking all these stupid questions, and I'd like to take a bath," Hans quipped.  
"Come on Hans... you can be open with me. Seriously, what is going through your mind, what _was_ going through your mind? Trying to murder a _queen_? That's not like you," Nels prompted.  
"How would you know? All you've ever done is ignore me! Don't stand there and pretend you know what I'm like, because you don't!" Hans shouted viciously. Nels took a step back and tightened his jaw.  
"That's not true Hans," he said slowly, "I haven't always ignored you..." he replied, "I've been very busy these last couple years, I'll admit, but I've never intentionally tried to ignore you,"

"Lies!" Hans snarled, "You and Viggo, all of you, none of you ever cared about what was going on with me! And you still don't! Your whole compassion act isn't going to fool me. I know you couldn't care less if I was thrown in prison for the rest of my miserable life!"

Nels took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing seriously.  
"Hans, I came here to talk to you about a personal matter of mine. I don't trust the others to understand and you're the only one I feel comfortable confiding in about the mess I've gotten myself into," he stated. Hans blinked and stared at his brother in surprise. He hadn't expected that _Nels_ would get himself into any sort of trouble, when all his life he'd always been a shining example of the _perfect_ child.

Hans walked to his dresser where he pulled out a robe and wrapped it around his bare chest.  
"In that case, go on," he allowed, truly interested to hear what kind of situation Nels had gotten himself into. Besides, this had to be the first time Hans could recall _any _of his brothers coming to him to talk about personal matters.  
"First you have to promise me you won't say anything about this to anybody... please..." Nels pleaded, "If any of our other brothers hear about this... they will be absolutely furious with me,"  
"More furious then they are at _me_? I tried to kill the Queen of Arendelle to take her throne, I highly doubt whatever you've done is _that_ bad," Hans snorted doubtfully. Nels swallowed.  
"I still need you to promise. You can decide how bad it is after I've told you,"  
"Fine, I promise," Hans agreed, rolling his eyes. Nels's chest expanded, drawing in a breath before saying,  
"I'm engaged..."

Hans cocked a brow. That's what would make everyone so furious? Hans was confused.  
"Congratulations...?"  
"You haven't asked me to whom I am engaged," Nels pointed out. Hans sighed.  
"To whom are you engaged?" he asked in exasperation.  
"Her name is Rose..."  
"Haven't heard of her. She some sort of duchess?"  
"That's the thing... I met her in town... she sells flowers, and she-"  
"Wait, wait, hold up, did you just say she sells flowers in town?"  
"Yes..."  
"So... she's a peasant then?"  
"Yeah..."

Hans watched as Nels bit his lip in apprehension probably preparing for an onslaught of scoldings, but instead all Hans had to offer was laughter. A hopeful smile spread onto Nels's lips.  
"What... what's so funny?" he inquired.  
"You... you're going to be skinned alive," Hans managed between snickers. Nels deflated. Hans continued laughing for a while, letting his amusement run it's full course. It was just too rich!

As a prince, one of their most important responsibilities was to make an influential and beneficial marriage with another royal family. It created strong ties between kingdoms and ensured stable alliances. With thirteen princes, the great potential in having so many kingdoms on your side through marriage was substantial. If each marital union was strategically planned, the Southern Isles would never have to deal with the threat of hostilities from neighboring countries ever again.

To hear now that Nels had engaged himself to a _peasant_ girl, was just priceless.

"On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble do you think I'll be in?" Nels inquired nervously. Hans mused on that for a moment.  
"Well, I may have tried to kill a queen, but I planned on wedding a princess first, so...nine,"  
Nels's jaw dropped.  
"I.. but.. you- you nearly murdered someone! You really think in light of everything you've done, our brothers will be just as mad at me?" he balked. Hans shrugged.  
"I can't say. If I were you, I'd back out of the engagement while you can, and save yourself from a future of humiliation,"

Nels frowned and shook his head.  
"No, never. I would never do that. Rose is the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm not going to abandon her to save my image," Nels declared passionately. Hans puzzled at his older brother. What woman could possibly be worth giving up your noble title? It was absolutely ludicrous. More ludicrous then attempting to murder a queen! Still, if Nels went through with it, then Hans wouldn't appear to be the only nut case within the family, and that was comforting.

"Fine whatever, do what you want, it's your life," Hans said, waving the issue away, "If you think a girl is worth forsaking your noble duty then I'm not going to say anything. Personally, I can't wait to see Fredrik's face," he grunted in amusement. Nels let out a relieved breath.  
"I'm... I'm glad to be able to talk about this with you. I've been having to keep this secret for a while now and I couldn't keep it bottled much longer," Nels admitted with a sheepish smile. Hans tried to hold back a disgusted expression. He had no idea Nels was such a sentimental sap. It was in the next moment that the clock stuck six o'clock and its beautiful chime resounded in the room. Nels snapped to action.  
"You need to hurry up, do you even know what you're going to say to defend yourself to the council? Never mind, just get yourself cleaned off and we can talk it over while I help you get dressed," he said, now grabbing Hans and pushing him into the bathroom.

It was only after the bathroom door closed that Han's memory suddenly dawned on him. Everything that had happened last night came rushing back and his gut clenched in panic. How could he have forgotten about the cleaning maid!? She was still hiding in his closet!

Yanking the bathroom door back open in a frantic flurry, Hans shouted, "NO! Don't go into that closet!"

But he was too late.

...

* * *

_WHEW, what a long chapter! I just couldn't stop writing! It didn't feel right ending it any sooner than I did so I hope you don't mind the length. _

_Also, I'm sorry to leave you guys on a cliff hangar but I plan on having the next chapter out very soon! :) If you read this chapter closely, I left a highly discreet foreshadowing of what will happen to Hans... _

_PLEASE review and let me know your thoughts! _


	8. Promises

_Hello my faithful readers! :)  
Thanks for being so great with your reviews and I'm so glad you are enjoying the story! It is honestly a great pleasure to be writing it. My love for these characters grows more with each chapter._

_ Any who... I wanted to apologize before hand because this chapter does recover over some of the same dialogue from the last chapter, but it is all from Frida's point of view, so I'm hoping it's different and funny enough to be just as entertaining as the first time! I couldn't see another way around it, considering you needed to know Frida's thoughts on a few things first before we move on. Anyway, moving on! _

_Enjoy! _

_Disclaimer: I own no rights to anything Frozen, just my OC Frida and my portrayal of the twelve older brothers! _

* * *

**Tales From the Southern Isles**

* * *

Chapter 7: Promises

...

Frida had been so certain that she wouldn't be able to sleep a wink that night, but before she knew it she found herself waking up from the dream world, feeling groggy, sore and disoriented.

She had had the most peculiar dream... In it, she'd gotten locked into Prince's Hans's bedroom and had been forced to sleep in the closet... Weird.

Moaning loudly, she rolled over onto her back and blinked her eyes open with a morning yawn. Fixating her gaze on the ceiling, Frida was surprised to see how nicely decorated it was, with carved grooves and immaculate curves. Strange how she had never noticed those details before. Come to think of it, that wasn't her ceiling. Frowning, Frida began to notice the racks upon racks of clothes hanging up around her. She lurched forward into a sitting position with wide eyes that swept back and forth in horror.

It took only a moment before the castle maid recalled where she was and why. Frida threw the blanket off of her and scrambled over on her knees to the drapes where she ever so carefully parted them just enough to peek through. Prince Hans's room was dim in the early morning light and everything was stone still. In the large sized bed, which sat a good four yards away, was a man sized lump. It was the only evidence Frida needed to conclude that the prince was in fact still sleeping. Sitting back, Frida closed the drapes and gnawed on her lip.

___**Why** couldn't it have just been a dream..?_ she whined to herself.

How was she going to explain her nightly absence to Aunt Sophie? What would happen when her aunt searched the womens staff quarters to wake her and found her _missing? _

She would gasp and then start grumbling beneath her breath about all the different ways she was planning inflict injury upon her good for nothing niece, _that's_ what she'd do.

Frida sighed and glanced lazily about the closet. For a temporary prison cell, she had to admit, it wasn't all _that_ bad. Eyeing the beautiful collection of the finest coats, vests, trousers and linen shirts she had ever seen, Frida inhaled their clean, fresh scent and marveled at the luxury of the fabrics. Never in her life would she get to ware materials so fine as these, much less touch them. Unable to refrain from the temptation, Frida reached out and held a white silk sleeve between her fingers. _So_ **soft!** Continuing her sampling, she felt all the different kinds of fabrics, telling herself she wasn't being weird fingering another man's clothes, and while doing so managed to note how awfully disorganized everything was. Whoever served as Hans's footman should be ashamed of himself! All the colors were mismatched and the clothe articles had no specified place! Not to mention, the boots lined up below the racks were flopped over haphazardly without any thought or care. She was no princess, and yet she knew for a fact _her_ closet looked better than this! Frida shook her head in disgust. Then, an idea struck her.

When stuck in any kind of difficult situation, her mother used to always encourage her to make the best of it. So, Frida would. If she was going to be stuck in here until whatever time that lump in the bed woke up and told her she could come out, then by golly, she might as well do something productive! Frida got to work right away...

A half hour and a lot of deliberation later, the closet was organized into something close to the image Frida had in mind. She had just begun on fixing the boots when the sound of a loud knocking halted her abruptly. Someone was coming into the bedroom! Frida froze.

"Hans, I'm coming in!"

Even from behind the closet curtains and the bedroom door, Frida could hear the male voice and it sent an icy tremor racing down her spine. What if she was found? What would that look like to a footman should one enter? What would that look like to anyone who entered and found a girl in Prince Hans's closet!? She would most certainly be fired, regardless if Hans had a say in it or not! Not that she expected he would, since she'd only been an inconvenience to him anyway!

Frida realized she was hyperventilating and quickly forced herself to breathe. However, the click of the door opening caused her to hold it again.

"Hans? Come on now, you have to get up," came the same male voice from the other side of the curtains. It was much clearer now that a door no longer blocked it and Frida grimaced. She did not recognize that voice if it were a footmen, not to mention he had greeted Prince Hans far too personally. The next words she over heard explained her confusion.

"Nels?"

That was Hans's voice, no mistake. It sounded scratchy and tired.

"Good morning brother, I hope you don't mind, but I told the footmen that I would be helping you this morning," the voice explained. It was another prince!

_AHHHHHHH! _Frida mentally squealed and she pressed herself against the wall as far away from the closet curtains as she could manage.

"It's fine..." was Hans's reply.

Would he remember that she was in his closet and take precautions accordingly? Frida swallowed and began praying.

"How are you?" Prince Nels inquired, sounding quite cheery.  
"Tired," Hans snorted back, with a nasty bit of attitude.  
"Well, I can imagine, but I mean... what's going through your mind right now?" Prince Nels pressed.  
"I'm thinking I don't want you asking all these stupid questions, and I'd like to take a bath," Hans quipped back.

_How rude!_ Frida frowned. Why was Hans being such a jerk to his brother? Perhaps he just wasn't a morning person. Yeah that was probably it.

"Come on Hans... you can be open with me. Seriously, what is going through your mind, what _was_ going through your mind? Trying to murder a _queen_? That's not like you,"

At _that_ Frida's heart sputtered to a stop. Hans did **_what_** to a queen!?

M-mur-_**murder?!**_ Is _that _the word she had just heard come out of Prince Nels's mouth? Yes... yes it was.

She had been sleeping... in a room... with a... **_MURDERER!_**

Frida suddenly was beginning to feel woozy and for some reason, her vision was getting spotted. The next thing she knew, she was waking up with a throbbing head and weak muscles. It took a couple seconds for Frida to realize that she had just fainted. How humiliating! Running a hand across her face, her attention was caught once more by the murmuring of voices. The brothers were still talking and because she'd passed out like a sissy she'd missed out on what they had been saying! DARG! Blinking rapidly and steadying her nerves, she tuned her hearing back into the conversation. She would finish freaking out later. Right now, it very well could be extremely important for her to overhear what was being said. Sure she was eavesdropping... but it's not like she wouldn't be able to hear them anyway!

"-I highly doubt whatever you've done is _that_ bad," Hans was saying. Frida slowly lifted a hand over her mouth, to ensure not the slightest reaction come out of her lips.  
"I still need you to promise. You can decide how bad it is after I've told you," Nels replied.

Frida stiffened. Good LORD. How many horrors did this castle of craziness have going on here?

"Fine, I promise," Hans agreed.

There was a long pause, then...

"I'm engaged..."

Frida blinked. Well that was news indeed! Prince Nels the second youngest was engaged to be married! That was no where near the heinous crime she had expected. Oh what a celebration it would be! And to think, she was the first to know! Eagerly, Frida waited to hear who the lucky lady was.

"Congratulations...?" Hans offered.  
"You haven't asked me to whom I am engaged,"  
There was a loud sigh.  
"To whom are you engaged?" Hans asked, his tone decidedly exasperated. Frida strained to hear.  
"Her name is Rose..."  
"Haven't heard of her. She some sort of duchess?"  
"That's the thing... I met her in town... she sells flowers, and she-"  
"Wait, wait, hold up, did you just say she sells flowers in town?"  
"Yes..."  
"So... she's a peasant then?"  
"Yeah..."

Frida was astonished. Prince Nels was marrying a common girl who sold flowers in town! Why... it was so _romantic!_ What a story! What a testimony to the power of love! It was all so encouraging! So sweet! So-

The sound of Hans's laughter brought Frida's musings crashing to a halt. It was a nice laugh but ill timed. What did he find so hilarious?

"What... what's so funny?" Nels inquired, voicing her thoughts exactly.  
"You... you're going to be skinned alive," Hans managed between snickers. Frida expression fell. Hans continued laughing for a while longer.  
"On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble do you think I'll be in?" Nels inquired nervously.  
"Well, I may have tried to kill a queen, but I planned on wedding a princess first, so...nine,"  
"I.. but.. you- you nearly murdered someone! You really think in light of everything you've done, our brothers will be just as mad at me?" he balked.  
"I can't say. If I were you, I'd back out of the engagement while you can, and save yourself from a future of humiliation,"

What a rotten thought! If Hans weren't a prince and a murderer, and she weren't a cleaning maid who was scared out of her wits, she just might have a mind to march out there and slap him across the face! How dare he so heartlessly prompt his older brother to stamp out the flame of true love he had with another!

"No, never. I would never do that. Rose is the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm not going to abandon her to save my image," Nels declared passionately.

_Yeah! Take that you jerk! _Frida mentally routed against Hans and applauded Nels. She hadn't even seen him before and she liked him! Anyone who was willing to stand up for the one they loved was someone worth admiring in her mind.

"Fine whatever, do what you want, it's your life," Hans said, disinterestedly, "If you think a girl is worth forsaking your noble duty then I'm not going to say anything. Personally, I can't wait to see Fredrik's face," he grunted.  
"I'm... I'm glad to be able to talk about this with you. I've been having to keep this secret for a while now and I couldn't keep it bottled much longer," Nels murmured gently. It was in the next moment that the clock stuck six o'clock and its beautiful chime resounded in the room.  
"You need to hurry up, do you even know what you're going to say to defend yourself to the council? Never mind, just get yourself cleaned off and we can talk it over while I help you get dressed," Nels instructed quickly, the sound of footsteps loud against the wooden floor. Frida swallowed. If Prince Nels was going to help Hans with is clothing, then she needed a place to hide, and hide FAST!

The footsteps of a decisive stride continued and now were getting closer to the closet! In an act of desperation, Frida flung herself at the back wall and dove behind the thickly packed racks of coats. In the next second, the closet drapes were swiped open and Prince Nels entered, bringing with him light from the outside of the closet. Frida's heart beat hammered so hard she could feel it pulsing in her ears. Her body went rigid and she held her breath. From what she could make out of Nels's face, he was quite pleasant. He had kind, lively brown eyes and dark brown hair which parted to either side of his face. He was not as tall, nor as fit as Prince Hans, yet he had a far more humble and calm countenance which Frida favored instantly. Coming forward, Prince Nels began rifling through some of the shirts and selected a fine white lace collared undershirt, plucking it off the rack before picking through the vests. Frida pressed herself as hard as she could into the wall against her back, hoping beyond all hope that the Prince would not search the coats and find her there... But he was headed this way!

Then, came a loud shout.

"NO! Don't go into that closet!"

Prince Nels jumped in surprise at his brother's scream and frowned, stooping to grab a pair of boots before walking out.

"Relax, I've done this before you know. I'm not a complete amateur when it comes to selecting adequate attire," Nels responded in offense, "By the way, your closet is really organized,"

Frida inwardly beamed at the praise of her work.

"I- uh- you..." Hans stuttered.  
"What?" Nels pressed, "You don't like these? I can go back and pick a second option.."  
"NO!" Hans's cry was loud and desperate. Frida swallowed, listening intently to the interaction just outside the closet door. There was a quiet moment in which Frida could picture Nels shooting Hans the most dumfounded look. After a tense moment, Hans continued.  
"I.. um. Those are fine. I just... I... " there was another long pause, "I'm hungry," he spurt out finally, "Any chance I can get something to eat?"

"Oh, sure, sure! Here, I'll leave these here for you and I'll be back with a tray," Nels offered readily. The sound of ruffling clothing and more footsteps tickled Frida's ears. Then came a knock... the sound of locks being thrown back and the door opening. With a final click, the door closed and Frida let out a slow breath. Was it safe to emerge from her hiding spot now? She waited, perfectly still, but heard absolutely no movement. It was so silent out there! It had to be safe! But Hans had not instructed her to leave yet.

There was no harm in taking another peek, was there? Just to be sure?

Deciding it was worth the risk, Frida slowly emerged from her hiding spot, coming to a careful stand and creeping steadily towards the open drapes. Ever so gently, Frida lay a hand on the closet wall to brace herself and leaned around the opening.

At the exact same time, a body unexpectedly moved directly in front of her.

"AHH!" Frida shrieked, stumbling backwards into the clothes behind her.  
"AH!" responded the equally shocked Hans. Staring with wide eyes at him, Frida panted in and out frantic breathes.

"You- you stay away from me!" she commanded, holding a hand out to keep him back.  
"Fannie! Relax! I'm not going to hurt you," Hans responded in irritation.  
"It's _Frida, _you **murderer**, and you will stay back!" Frida snapped.

...

Hans blinked. Yes, the cleaning maid had definitely heard everything. Just great. There had been the slightest glimmer of hope that the whole thing last night had been nothing but a mere hallucination brought on by exhaustion. However, here she was, quivering before him and as real as ever. Just _great_.

"I didn't kill anybody," Hans defended himself, not liking the look of horror in the cleaning girl's eyes.  
"But you tried! That's why you are going to a trial isn't it?" Frida retorted.  
"Yes, that's why I'm... " he trailed off and sighed. The expression of pure disgust on Frida's face was really getting to him. It was one thing to have his royal brothers give him that look, but to see it coming from a cleaning maid who was so far beneath him in status? It was a severe blow to his pride. The desire to defend himself roared to life, though he couldn't quite process why restoring a cleaning maid's good opinion of himself was so important.

"Is that _all_ you heard of that entire conversation my brother and I just had?" Hans questioned, spreading his hands beside him.  
"Well... _that_ and that Prince Nels is engaged to a commoner..." Frida admitted timidly. Hans's chest was about ready to combust with anger and frustration. So she'd _conveniently_ **ignored** the part where he'd spilled out his heart regarding all his past years, shouting in pain about his miserable childhood and she'd found the news of Nels's engagement to a peasant more important? Well, on the account of her being a woman, he supposed it made sense. They always concerned themselves with the more frivolous things of life. But still, it was insulting.  
"What about the whole section where I talked about my neglected childhood and I-!?" he stopped abruptly and shook his head. He needed to get a grip! He didn't need this lowly maid's sympathy! He didn't need _anyone's_ sympathy!

"You know what, never mind," he relinquished through gritted teeth, getting back to business. It was imperative that he ensure she never speak of anything she had overheard. The news of the trial would come out soon enough, but Nels had entrusted him with making certain his secret about that Rose girl stayed just between them. Why Hans felt a sense of obligation to keeping Nels's secret, he didn't even fully comprehend himself.

"Everything you heard just now, about Nels and myself you are never _EVER _to mention to anyone, do you understand?" Hans questioned harshly, "If you do I will-"

"-Make sure I loose my job. Yes, I get it," Frida snapped out, glaring at him sharply. Hans blinked. A feisty glint had lit within the maid's eyes and her hands had now moved to rest haughtily on her hips. This was no behavior he had ever faced before from a servant.

"Why you feel the need to threaten me is necessary, I don't know," Frida began stiffly, "I'll have you understand that I am perfectly capable of keeping promises! Do you not expect me to withhold my word just because of my station? Is that it? You think I lack in moral and virtues simply because I spend my time scrubbing your floors and cleaning your sheets?!" she spat.

Hans was momentarily taken back by the fierceness the young woman displayed towards him, but it only served to stroke the fires of rebellion within his own heart. Nostrils flaring, Hans returned her glare with all the hardness and pride he possessed within him. Their eyes stayed locked in an intense stare down for several drawn out seconds before Hans spoke.

"_Promise_ me then... that you will not speak a word of anything you have heard..." he growled out.

As if a flip had been switched, the maid's expression changed instantly from furious and stubborn to calm and satisfied. She lowered her arms from her hips and stood properly straight.  
"I _promise_," she replied with a respectable nod. Hans's chest expanded with a large intake of air, striving to cool his hot temper. This girl... she was _something_ else.

It was then that a knock sounded on the door and both of them startled at the click of locks being removed.

"Get back in that closet and stay there until I am gone," he ordered, "The guards will most likely serve as my escorts to the throne room so you should be able to slip out afterwards," Hans whispered. The maid nodded and scurried away hurriedly. After he was certain she was out of sight, Hans turned on his heel and strode into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Hans?" came Nels's voice from the other side of the door, "You alright? The guards said they heard a squeal,"

Hans clenched his jaw, beginning to remove his robe.

"I'm fine... "

"What happened..?"

Why was his brother so gosh darn _nosey_!?

"I stubbed my toe on the corner of the bath!" Hans shouted back in fury, "Do you have my food?"

"Yes it's right here," Nels replied after a moment, sounding surprised at Hans's tone. "But you have to be quick. You don't have much time. The trial is in a half hour,"

...

* * *

_K, I know, not a whole lot of Hans's point of view in this chapter, but don't worry! The next chapter will be nothing but Hans and the trial! :) _


	9. The Trial

_Hello again Frozen readers! _

_So I have a quick note here:_

_I did some research on what punishments are for those who commit high treason and in what circumstances kings can give their pardons, but I'm just going to tell you right now, there will be a couple places that I am just going to make nonsense up. I will do my best to keep it real-ish and understandable, but I will be taking a few creative liberties! Hope you all don't mind!_

_Okay nuff said._

_On with the show... _

* * *

**Tales From the Southern Isles**

* * *

Chapter 8: The Trial

...

Having finally washed away the grime and stink of days past and been freshly adorned in sharp attire, Hans could safely say he felt ready to take on the nasty business at hand. It was an amazing thing, how being properly groomed for this ugly occasion seemed to strengthen his resolve and spirit in spite of the grim matters before him. No, he could not convince himself to enjoy the difficult trials he was about to be put through, but he would face his fate with professionalism none the less. After all, he was still a prince. Mislead and driven mad by ambition, perhaps, but he was of noble blood, and he would not allow himself to behave as anything less.

The council might see him as a monster, but if that was so, than it was the monster in which his heartless brothers had molded him to become.

Hans carefully descended the long stair case that led down to the council room, a guard at each side, shackles latched onto his wrists and his brother, Prince Nels, leading the way.

"Will all of our brothers be attending this trial?" Hans inquired.

"Their presence has been requested by the council. Whether all of them decide to show, I cannot anticipate," Nels replied.

Hans pressed his lips tightly together. He had no doubt that if each of his siblings had been asked to attend, they would not miss the opportunity in having _something_ to say during the deliberation of his future.

Since this was a private trial, meant to be kept as secret as possible, there would be no lawyers present, nor an official judge other than King Fredrik himself. Without a single sole on his side, or anyone willing to aid him in the endeavor of defending himself, Hans would need to exercises all the intelligence he possessed if he had any hopes of saving his own skin.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and turned down the nearest hall to walk a good several yards before they came to a grand set of double doors, two guards placed at either side. Nels paused before the entrance and turned to face Hans's guard escorts.  
"Have him wait here," Nels ordered, now turning to crack one of the doors open just a sliver and slip out of sight. Hans held back a growl at the fact that Nels hadn't addressed him personally. He knew how to stand and wait! He didn't need these stupid guards to hold him in place! At the feel of a heavy hand on his left shoulder Hans grit his teeth and sent the offending guard a scathing glare. The guard's expression remained as hard as stone. The burning desire to reel back and box the guard in the nose was simply overwhelming.

"Take your hand off of me," Hans ordered instead. The guard didn't even acknowledge him. A hot rage furled to life deep inside Hans's gut.

"Take it off... before I _make_ you," he grit out, hardly able to refrain himself much longer. The guard still refused to heed his warning, ignoring him completely. Bad move.

In the blink of an eye, Hans had ripped his shoulder out from under his escort's grip and smashed his elbow directly into the guard's face. The soldier cried out and reeled back, clutching his nose as the guard to his right along with the two who had been stationed by the council doors lurched forward to grab onto Hans even harder, yanking him harshly into submission. There was a brief struggle, but Hans didn't actually intend on trying to escape, so he eventually quieted down. None of the guards were allowed to smack on him, since criminal or not, Hans was still royalty, but the look of pure outrage in their eyes was enough to satisfy the haughty prince.

The double doors to the council room were opened the very next moment following the end of the skirmish and it was Prince Konrad's voice that filled the air.

"Prince Hans may now enter,"

The guards made a show of shoving Prince Hans forward a bit harsher than necessary, no doubt to repay him for his previous behavior towards them. Once inside the council room, the double doors were shut and Hans was released to stand in the center of the marble floored room. The ceilings towered high above him, but there were very few windows in the walls and the ones that were present had drapes pulled closed before them, blocking out any possibility for sunlight. As result, the room was dim and the atmosphere stuffy.

Placed directly in front of him, was the throne in which King Fredrik sat heavily upon, appearing drained and wary. To Hans's right were the ten council members, each seated in their personal wooden chairs. All were aged well past their forties, some sporting full white beards and ridiculous mustaches, while others had no trace of hair to be found. Standing to Hans's left, were all eleven of his brothers brothers positioned in their regular line up, just as he'd suspected they would be.

Their expressions ranged between seething contempt, frustration, cold indifference, and plain boredom. Nels, Hans noted, kept his emotions carefully masked, without a single shadow of his previous cheery smiles from that morning to be seen.

"Prince Hans of the Southern Isles," addressed one of the members of the council. Why they felt the need to speak to him as if he had forgotten his own title, Hans had no idea.

"You are here to be tried in regards to your actions of high treason against the crowned Queen of Arendelle," the councilman continued, lifting up a piece of parchment in his hand,

"Upon the reception of this letter, where accounts of your despicable deeds were transcribed, the council of Arendelle encased a statement, relinquishing all interests in having any influence pertaining to this court case, thus, leaving the responsibility to determine your fate solely to the deliberation of this council," the elder informed, eyeing Hans sharply behind his glass lenses.

Hans remained perfectly still, even as a tingle of apprehension traveled down his spine.

"You will be asked a series of questions, in which you shall swear an oath to king and country stating that each inquiry will be answered in utmost honesty," the councilman stated, "Afterwards, you shall be escorted from this court room, and we will discuss at length the answers in which you have supplied as well as what course of action shall ultimately be taken," the councilman set the letter down and now folded his hands on his desk.

"Lift your hand for the oath and we shall proceed,"

Hans clenched his jaw but did as commanded, speaking the oath whilst sweeping an uncertain gaze across the faces of those around him. Not a single being within the room returned his glance with anything akin to sympathy. Not even Nels. Whether it was because the peasant lover was an extremely good actor, or he was showing his true colors and really hadn't cared one wit about him the entire time, Hans was uncertain.

Either way, he was alone.

Completely, and utterly alone.

Oh, and hated.

A mere split second of locked eyes with Prince Emil and Hans was reminded of the fury most of his brothers felt towards him. Not only had Hans become a source of embarrassment to them, but he'd tarnished the family name. That alone would be enough to keep the hedge of separation permanently wedged in place between himself and his siblings.

Once the oaths were over and done with, the trial began. The same councilman, who for the life of him Hans could not recall his name, did most of the questioning. Hans answered them to the best of his ability.

"You arrived on Arendelle soil exactly ten days ago, correct?"

"Correct," Hans replied dully.

"Was the plot to murder the Queen of Arendelle pre-meditated prior to your arrival in the country?"

"No," Hans answered.

"No?" the councilman cocked a thoughtful brow and looks of uncertainty passed between the brothers.

"Yeah right!" snarled Prince Emil, "You honestly expect us to believe this entire fiasco was a result of pure impulse!?" The councilman shot a warning glare over towards Emil but afterwards gestured back at Hans.

"Explain,"

Taking a slow breath to gather his nerves, Hans pinned a directly challenging stare on Emil.

"My original plan was to wed the Queen of Arendelle," Hans replied tightly. At that, several murmurs broke out in the room amidst the councilman as well as the princes. King Fredrik's brows converged in curiosity.

"And what, pray tell, altered this scheme so dramatically?" the councilman inquired.

"Yes, do tell us exactly how the desire to murder a perfectly beautiful queen became in any way more appealing than the prospect of romancing her," Prince Bosse snorted from where he stood with his arms crossed before his chest.

Being tall, broad shouldered and the only towhead of the family with blue eyes, Bo had wasted no time in acquiring a deadly set of skills for wooing women. Indeed Bo had such an infamously long list of broken hearts tucked under his belt, that Hans had quickly begun surveying him from a distance for the purpose of learning the arts of seduction.

Understanding how to wield his charms successfully had been quite a key factor in Hans's over all plot upon coming to Arendelle. But in the end, it had only gotten him so far...

"Upon arrival I was informed that the Queen was impervious to any attempts at being won over, so I switched my sights to Princess Anna, who was both naive and far more gullible," Hans confessed, "It wasn't until an unforeseeable set of circumstances took place that murdering the Queen even became a thought in my mind's eye,"

"Elaborate," the councilman encouraged calmly.

Begrudgingly Hans went on to explain all the different aspects of his plot which had been changed during the course of his stay on Arendelle. The oddity of Queen Elsa being found to have ice powers, and her loss of control over them which resulted in a dangerous snow storm, were just a few of the things which Hans had come unprepared for and was challenged with adjusting his plans to accommodate.

Did professing his sins make him feel any worse about himself? Quite honestly, Hans had already meditated on his actions long enough to have branded them into his memory, and yet... even with the burning stares he received from his brothers during his explanations, he felt no guilt. Only resignation. He knew what he had done, and he expected to be punished for it. That was that. He merely had to express his thoughts and reasonings for his actions, and await whatever came next.

After Hans had finished giving his detailed description of the story, told as truly as he could manage, the council's interrogation only continued. For the next twenty minutes, Hans was forced to answer an assortment of ridiculous questions, to which he was certain the council already knew the answers to. The young prince's patience for this trial was quickly thinning when quite suddenly, a question was asked in which he found himself eager to answer.

"Do you confess that it was your greed for power which instigated your actions?" the councilman inquired dully.

"I do not," Hans replied casually. King Fredrik frowned, as did most of the other princes. Even Nels appeared perplexed at his youngest brother's response.

"If it was not greed, than what was it?" the councilman demanded sharply.

"Because he's bloody insane!" burst out Prince Viggo, "Only a psychopath would have thoughtlessly put himself and his country into such a reckless position!" he roared, several of the brothers joining in with their own collage of accusations.

King Fredrik sighed, lifting a hand to rub at his temples. Hans could imagine that his eldest brother was suffering from the same headache in which he himself felt coming on about now. The tense, anger filled atmosphere was exhausting to be around and to listen to.

Swiftly, the lead councilman stood from his chair, slamming a fist onto his desk in a demand for attention amidst the chaos.

"It is now that I must respectfully request the princes kindly refrain from any further comments at this time. Anyone who refuses to comply will be removed from this court room," he ordered. Silence fell hastily and all eyes returned once more to Hans. The councilman cleared his throat.

"I'll ask once more. If it was not greed that inspired your crimes against the crown of Arendelle, what was it?"

Hans took a moment to eye each and everyone of his brothers, his gaze falling lastly upon the king. Fredrik waited, his previously drained appearance now automatically shifting to one of solid stone. It was that look... that judgmental... _fault_ finding... heart wrenchingly... familiar **_look_** that snapped the last cord of Hans's civil restraints. He exploded forth, a powerful surge of hatred and bitterness spewing out with each word that passed between his gnashing teeth.

"It was a desperate attempt to ascertain the honor that I deserve!" Hans cried, "If I succeeded in destroying Queen Elsa while her powers were still unchecked, the people of Arendelle would have seen me as a hero! I would have been a savior to the nation! The respect and adoration in which _you_ **all** have deprived from me my entire _life_ would have finally been mine to cherish!" Hans declared, turning to violently gesture towards his brothers.

The princes each retreated in miner steps, horrified at the intensity and the emotion warped across their youngest brother's face. Even Günter, who was used to far worse behavior on the battlefield was caught off guard.

"It was my _one_ chance to prove that not every king should be put in power solely by customary birthright, but because he is _worthy _of the position!" he spat out, now turning with his shoulders back, feet set apart and eyes blazing a ray of hellish fire towards King Fredrik.

The eleven princes each gaped. Hans's bold declaration had not only been entirely disrespectful and out of place, but it had been a direct insult to their oldest brother the king. Even the councilmen were flabbergasted, their gazes snapping over towards their king to see what kind of reaction would be evoked from him.

King Fredrik sat as still as a statue, his tired old eyes staring into Hans's young defiant ones. While lashing out in fury would have been an entirely acceptable reaction from the king in this instance, the only reply offered to these mutinous words was dead silence.

It was a silence that stretched on for several long, heart thumping minutes.

Hans breathed hard, his chest heaving up and down with each intake of oxygen. His jaw was set hard and his muscles were taut. The silent battle for dominance continued in the form of a deadly staring contest for what seemed like hours. When it finally ended, it was Fredrik who had lost. The king slowly lowered his eyes, visibly shaken, and swallowed.

"Is there anything further you have to say on your behalf?" he inquired weakly, all hints of authority stripped completely from his tone and countenance. Hans had succeeded in tearing down the king's impenetrable wall of poise and shattering his confidence.

It was such a shock, even to Hans, that he had to take a suitable amount of time to process what else it was he wanted to say. Frankly, he felt like he'd won this battle, but there was one more thing which needed to be brought up before he took his leave. Having finally caught his breath, Hans answered.

"Only this,

"I know I am not blameless. I know I have disgraced myself and this country by my actions, however justified I believe my actions to have been. But while you decide amongst yourselves what punishment I am to be given, I would ask that you consider what you would think just to have happen to yourselves, should you imagine for a moment that it were you in my position; for it was by your influence, or lack there of, that I have manifested into what stands before you now," Hans declared, his challenging gaze traveling down the line of his brothers.

"What a blatant lie!" shouted Günter.  
"Don't you dare try to pin your misdeeds on us!" Ralph snapped.  
"You have no right to stand there and point the finger when it was your actions alone that got us into this mess!" Emil snarled.  
"I'll box your ears for such an accusation!" Bo threatened.

"Enough!" the king cut in, lifting a hand to silence his brothers. The councilman spoke up in the next instant, finally having come back to life after their shock,

"Hans is dismissed, along with all the princes here who are not a part of the council,"

Hans's previous escort guards now marched forward, taking hold of his shackled arms and turning him about to lead him gracelessly from the court room. Behind him followed Nels, Viggo, Bo, Ralph and Lars all walking in single file.

It was only after he had exited through the council room doors and they were safely shut behind him, that Hans realized he was shaking with adrenaline from all of the heated confrontation. He was led to a seat in the hall where he was pushed down roughly by the shoulder and made to wait. Out of the five brothers who were dismissed, Bo approached first.

"The council won't let you live you know," he stated in a cold, quiet tone, "Not after everything you had to say..."

"Probably not," Hans replied sullenly.

"Then why did you say all of those horrible things?" Nels inquired from behind, a true expression of hurt twisting his features.

"Because it is true!" Hans responded passionately, "You cannot honestly tell me that none of you haven't once fantasized what kind of rulers _you_ would make. Isn't it the least bit agonizing to think you will never get your chance to find out?"

"Are you crazy? What am I saying, of course you are. Hans, allow me try and explain this in small words so you understand..." Bo offered patronizingly. Hans fought to keep down a growl.

"The kind of power you desire, you do not even have the least idea of what it entails. You should be grateful that you are the thirteenth in line, and that you will never have to experience anything marginally similar to the tribulations our brother King Fredrik has had to under go," Bo stated.

"Surprisingly, Bo is right," Lars spoke up. Being the oldest of the younger group of princes, Lars had a calm, I'm-in-charge attitude about him that drove Hans up the wall. Still, Hans held his tongue and listened to what his oh-so-wise older brother thought should be said.

"You couldn't begin to comprehend the complexities of a king's life, nor would you be adapt for them should the throne be magically passed down to you. It takes years of experience to be properly equipped for such a strong role, and every minute of it is a burden," Lars stated. Hans highly doubted that power, in any form, could be a burden. He was about to say so when it was Ralph's turn to cut in.

"Not to mention-" Ralph cleared his throat, adjusting the glasses on his nose as Hans rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to rub over his face. Of course the know-it-all would have something to add to the conversation! The book worm who spent nearly all his waking hours in the library with his nose buried between paper pages seemed to think that knowledge was all there was to live for.

"-you would have to undergo years of political and historical studies," Ralph informed, "Studies in which we all know you are far too impatient to possibly commit yourself to learning,"

Hans clenched his teeth tightly together. It wasn't his fault he didn't like having lessons jammed down his throat. If his mentors had made their classes the slightest bit interesting, he might have bothered to listen in on a few of them.

"In short," Viggo concluded, "Your actions weren't well thought out, and now we are all going to pay for them, one way or another,"

With that, the four brothers moved off down the hall, leaving only Nels left. Hans fixed a frustrated stare on the remaining sibling.

"What? Nels. What?" he demanded harshly. Nels blinked, taking a startled step backwards.

"I.. I just thought you may like some company while you wait for the verdict," Nels explained softly. Hans shook his head. When would his siblings ever get it? He didn't need them, nor did he want them! Especially not now, with his emotions ripping around like a tempest within his heart.

"Leave me," Hans ordered.

Nels hesitated a moment, but finally stepped away, his footsteps padding softly down the carpeted hall.

...

* * *

_Whew! A nice long chapter! How was that? Did I completely crash and burn with my lame attempt at a court scene? It is my first time mind you! _

_Be sure to let me know what you thought! _


	10. The Verdict

_Hey readers,_

_As usual you guys are awesome. Your reviews have been simply amazing! I cannot tell you how relieved I am that my court scene was accepted so well and that I managed to NOT make it a complete failure. _

_That being said, I now present to you Hans's eagerly awaited fate... _

* * *

**Tales From the Southern Isles**

* * *

Chapter 9: The Verdict

...

King Fredrik's body might have still been seated upon his noble throne, but mentally he felt as if he had been shoved from his pedestal of authority, every ounce of self confidence having dashed into a million little pieces against the cold marble floor.

Prince Hans's words had cut deeper into his flesh than any blade ever had, only from this wound, Fredrik was less sure of how exctly he would recover...

When none but the council members were left in the room, the debating began. Councilman Snodtroff, who had led Hans's interrogation, was the first to speak.

"Your highness," he addressed, looking towards his king, "With your permission, I would like to express my opinion on the greivious matter presented to us,"

"Permission granted," Fredrik replied with a slow nod.  
"It is with great remorse and a heavy heart that I confess I have little hope for our young Prince Hans. His testimony to this court has revealed the grusome extent of his fallen character. I see little hope in recovering what is left of his reputation,"

Fredrik took a deep breath, rubbing his fingers underneath his chin somberly in deliberation

"Regrettably," interjoined a secondary councilman with a wild beard and cold gray eyes, "it is my belief that the consequence for Prince Hans's actions should be no different than those of any other common criminal brought before us. The penalty for high treason, no matter your personage, is severe,"

There were murmurs of agreement from the rest of the elder council members but it was at this point that Prince Günter spoke up. Fredrik couldn't say he was surprised. There was hardly a time where his hard headed war general _didn't_ have something to add to the conversation.

"Hans is rough around the edges, we all have seen enough to know that, but I do not believe he is fully beyond all hopes of redemption," he stated, in his regular gruff manner. Frankly, Fredrik was perplexed at Günter's sudden show of heart for their younger sibling. Up until this point, Günter had not disclosed any feelings of sympathy towards Hans. Perhaps the things Hans had said earlier had gotten to more than just one older sibling?

"His actions are inexusable. Our brother he may be, but that should not excuse him from what he deserves," spoke up Prince Emil. There was no hiding the contempt this prince felt towards his young brat of a brother. Anyone who dared to put a stain on the flawless cloak of their royal family's reputation was to be swiftly scrubbed out and eliminated. In Emil's mind, if Hans was only going to be a blemish to the monarchy, then he should be removed entirely from the picture. However, not all the brothers shared this same sentiment.

"I, for one, am inclined to agree with Günter's statement," interjected Prince Axel. As the person in charge of people relations for the Southern Isles, Axel's words generally held much weight in the council. He was trusted with speaking as the voice of their people.  
"As atrocious as these circumstances are, how would it look to the people of this great nation should young Hans not be given a smidgen of mercy from his own family?" Axel inquired.

"The sentiments of the people will not dictate this council's decision," councilman Snodtroff stated strictly, surprisingly stiff considering whom he was speaking with, "If our sole interest was to please the people, there would be no council to regulate crime. There would be no king to rule them,"

Axel frowned but offered no reply. Instead, it was Hubert that cleared his throat, causing Günter to glance at him with some surprise. It wasn't common for Hubert to speak out in organized affairs, if at all. Hubert was most free when speaking to his twin brother than anyone else, save for the occasional moments where he _really_ had something to say.

"Excuse me... perhaps I am speaking out of turn...but Axel does have a point. If the people cannot trust their leaders to properly handle family affairs.. what does that say about our ability to handle public ones? Besides, would not the citizens of the Southern Isles prefer to see their young prince reformed, rather than put to shame before all the other nations by being sentenced to a fate as cruel as death, or life in prison?"

Hubert's words caused the elder councilmen to murmurer contemplatively amongst themselves. Günter smiled at his twin, feeling quite proud of him. Hans was a pain in all of their butts, no doubt, but that didn't change the fact that both of them felt it would be wrong if something drastic were to become of him.

And by the look on King Fredrik's face... surely their oldest brother felt the same way...

"I strongly dissgree!" opposed Emil once more, "Should Hans be left unchecked, I should think it would have the opposite effect on the people. They would say that we do not take the law seriously when it comes to personal matters," he challenged.

"We do not know this for certain!" Axel retorted.

"None the less, the laws of our forefathers still stand. Who are we to overlook them in this instance?" Emil returned, "The penalty for his crimes is unquestionable. As much as we all may regret what must be done, it is our duty," Emil stated, now narrowing his hard eyes on King Fredrik. The turmoil showed plainly upon the eldest brother's face and the king had nothing to say.

Fredrik was deeply struggling.

...

Frida was in trouble. She was in soooooo much _trouble!_ As she scurried down the hall like a little mouse, dodging and tip toeing silently through the palace corridors, she contemplated what it was she was going to say to her aunt when the inevitable confrontation took place.

Frida had worked hard to refrain from ever letting a single untrue word pass between her lips and there was no way she was about to allow these outrageous circumstances to soil her record. She would figure out an explanation later, somehow, but right now, she was on a mission. Ever so carefully, she slipped into the servants hall and made for her bedroom. She was in desperate need for a change of clothes. The ones she wore were incredibly crumpled and her hair was in a state unsightly. Many of the other servants were already up by now, attending to their duties, so she didn't fear being spotted in the female sleeping quarters.

With thankful success, she reached her bedroom and began the stripping process. It took her a total of twenty minutes to redress and re-situate her hair before she was bustling in a fresh set of skirts back out of her door, closing it quietly behind her. When she turned Aunt Sophia stood mere inches away.

"GAH!" Frida shrieked, throwing herself back against the door. That was the second time today she'd nearly had a heart attack!

"**WHERE** _were_ you?" Aunt Sophia hissed, her tone deadly quiet. Now Frida _knew_ she was in trouble. When her aunt was frustrated, she yapped, when she was angry she snapped, when she was furious she shouted and when she was raving _mad_, she whispered.

"I-uh-well-you see I-well you-I was-"  
This wasn't going well. Frida had been caught completely off guard and she was left clueless as to what to say.

"SPIT _IT_ **OUT**!" her Aunt snapped, her cheeks glowing red as she took a menacing step closer to her niece. Frida whimpered. She actually _whimpered_.

"Aunt... you wouldn't believe me if I told you..." she squeaked through trembling lips.  
"Just you try me, child..."  
Frida squeezed her eyes shut in a valiant effort to summon what courage she had left.  
"I was cleaning...uh.. _organizing_ Prince Hans's closet,"

It was sort of true... that's what she had truly been this morning, wasn't it?  
"What?!" Aunt Sophia burst, "What in heavens good name- No that's impossible. All of the princes were still asleep in their rooms during the early morning hours that I came to wake you and you were missing! Whatever it is you were up to couldn't have had anything to do with cleaning in the prince's bed chambers, much less in Prince Hans's!"

"But _Aunt,_ I was-"  
"Not another **word** young lady! You are telling me a falsehood!"

Frida slumped her shoulders in defeat. This was one of those moments where she knew her Aunt was far too worked up to listen to reason. What Frida couldn't decide was if that was good thing right now... or not. Aunt Sophia shook her head, physically vibrating with anger.  
"No matter! Keep your foolish secrets, I shall find out the truth soon enough. Right now, you shall begin your daily duties by washing each and every one of the Northern Hall windows... followed by beating the Southern Passage carpets and scrubbing the kitchen floor spotless. Do you hear me?!" she spat, pointing a finger up into her niece's crestfallen face. Frida nodded mutely.

"When you're finished with that... and have taken care of your regular set of chores, I have a couple extra things I will be needing your help with in the laundry room. Now get on it! You're late enough as it is, and if you ever thinking about sneaking off again, I will personally bend you over my knee and give your bottom a healthy beating! You delay another minute and I'll get to it right now!" Aunt Sophia exploded. Frida nodded, this time more hastily and swept away before her Aunt could make good on her threat. She had a miserably long day ahead of her...

As if it hadn't been awful enough to begin with. Joy.

...

All was peacefully quiet within the hall way. The morning haze had broken but the bitter aftertaste of its events still lingered. Hans sat with his head buried in his hands, running his fingers tiredly through his hair. He hated to admit it, but the stress was getting to him.

He was so nervous as to what was to become of him, that his hands had taken to quivering like an old granny's and his heart beat would **not** _slow_ down! It seemed like he was left waiting for hours. How long could it possibly take for those old wind bags to make a decision? Seriously! All of his bottled up tension would melt away as soon as he knew what was to become of him. It was the not knowing, the being held in suspense, that was driving him crazy.

Clasping his hands together, Hans began rocking slowly back and forth in his seat, seeking to ease his nerves. Rather than letting his mind continue to concoct the worst possible scenarios and drown in the fears of the unknown, Hans forced himself into trying to recall more pleasant times. There weren't many... but there was one in particular that brought him some warmth...

()()()

At thirteen years old, Hans was a blooming young man. His growth spurt had begun and already signs of a handsome potential budded over his transforming features. The small chubby nose was gone though the freckles remained, and his jaw was stretching to become more sharply defined. His quickly growing limbs left him appearing gangly and uncoordinated but despite this awkward adjustment period, Hans was feeling more confident and ready for life than ever.

Becoming older meant that he was progressing towards a future where he would finally be able to maneuver out from his older brother's thumbs. And today... on his 13th birthday, a gift had been given him to symbolize the new freedoms that awaited him.

Hans stood within the royal stables, the smell of fresh hay and horses sweetly wafting into his nostrils. Beside him stood a smiling Prince Lars.  
"Bring him out Ed," Lars ordered, gesturing to a stable hand down the barn corridor. The servant nodded eagerly and vanished behind a wooden stall door. Then, from within, came the tell tale sounds of steel toed hooves. A Fjord stallion was brought forward, his muscles rippling with each step and his proud head held high. Light glinted off his perfectly groomed tan fur and his nostrils snorted puffs of hot air into the chill around. He pricked his ears in curiosity at the sight of the two princes standing not far away.

Staring wide eyed at the massive beast before him, Hans's mouth hung open in absolute shock, opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Well say something runt," Lars encouraged, bumping a hand against his younger brother's shoulder.  
"He's... he's mine?" Hans managed finally.  
"All yours," Lars assured, "Don't just stand there, go check him out," Lars snorted, shoving young Hans forward. Hans stumbled but caught himself and swallowed, approaching the large horse that awaited him. He couldn't believe it. He simply couldn't believe it.  
"He's called Sitron," Lars informed, "He's a bit wild now, so you'll have to keep a strong hand on him, but he should keep you from spending anymore days sulking about the castle,"  
Normally, Hans would have responded to such a comment with a snide remark, but right now, he was too enthralled in meeting his newest companion.

Stretching out a cautious hand, Hans allowed Sitron to smell his palm before attempting to pet his nose. Sitron responded by snorting loudly and flattening his ears to strike out and paw the ground, nearly hitting the young prince in his sudden lash out. Hans had dodged just in time with a gasp and stood back, visibly shaken. Lars sniggered at Hans's expense.  
"No, no," Lars snorted, "Not the nose. He doesn't like being pet on his nose,"  
Hans shot his older brother a venomous glare.  
"Could have mentioned that _beforehand_ you jerk," he snapped. Lars offered no response and simply watched as Hans corrected his methods and approached Sitron a second time. Hans was able to pat the golden stallion's strong neck successfully, brushing down the soft fur and smiling when Sitron exhaled through his large nostrils.

"Hey buddy," Hans greeted, "You and me are gonna have a lot of fun together..." he promised, looking the magnificent animal directly in the eye. A shared feeling of excitement passed between them in that instant, solidifying what was to soon be a strong bond between man and his steed.

()()()

A happy memory indeed..

Hans hadn't been able to see Sitron once since the beginnings of his imprisonment. He hoped that his horse was being well treated in his absence. Come to think of it, would he ever even get to see his horse again? With his fate so uncertain, Hans could offer himself no comforts. Once again, the anxieties from earlier stirred uneasily within his gut. Shaking his head, Hans breathed out a loud sigh. Minutes continued to tick by.

For the fifth time in ten minutes, Hans wiped his sweaty palms on the thighs of his pants. Then, the doors opened and there stood Konrad.

"Hans may reenter," he announced. Standing to his feet before the guards could force him up, Hans stepped forward towards the council room doors. Konrad leveled a steel look on the young prince.

"Brace yourself," Konrad warned, stepping to walk abreast of him. Well _that_ sounded promising...

Upon his second entrance, Hans was appalled by the lack of attention he received. Not a single set of eyes met his line of sight, but instead were all turned down, dark and brooding. Hans swallowed. Once in place, the councilman who had conducted the interrogation stood to his feet, clearing his throat.

"Prince Hans," he announced, his voice loud. Hans forced his knees to remain strong. This was it. This was the moment of truth. Hans told himself that he must not loose heart. No matter the consequences that he was to face, he would not show any sign of fear. He would not make himself a lowly spectacle.

"After listening to your testimony and having deliberated the factual circumstances as well as the motives... this council has reached its final conclusion," the councilman stated, his throat constricted, and he paused as if what he had to say next didn't quite want to leave his throat.

"The penalty for your actions," said the councilman...

"...Is _death_ by hanging,"

* * *

_Cliff HANGAR! I know I'm so cruel aren't I? I'm sorry but I simply just **couldn't** resist! _

_But hey, you got to have another flash back from Hans's past and see the first time he met his noble steed! Plus more Frida cuteness! _

_I figured if Hans was stuck waiting in suspense for quite a while in this chapter, you guys could pull through it as well right? *snickers* _

_Keep up the reviews people! If this story reaches 100 reviews by chapter 20, I will write a special chapter of your people's choice! You will get to pick from three of my options! ;D _


	11. Mercy

_Oh my! The reactions to the last chapter were SOOOO worth it! :D _

_I have received such high compliments, you have no idea how great you all make me feel! This story has been so fun to write and you guys make it all the more exciting to get new chapters published!  
_

_That being said, here is the next chapter! Enjoy! _

* * *

**Tales From the Southern Isles  
**

* * *

Chapter 10: Mercy

...

Prince Hans stared down at the floor, his eyes glazed over in utter disbelief of what he had just heard. The entire room and all the people around had begun to tilt back and forth dizzily and Hans had to squeeze his eyes shut to prevent himself from becoming too woozy. His mouth parted slightly, his throat suddenly very dry, and a shallow breath eked out from his lungs.

This was it.

_ This_ was what was to become of him. **Death**.

Hans supposed he should hardly be surprised, but he couldn't deny that there had been some small hope left inside of him. It was a hope that had dared to think that his brothers would consider him worthy of a second chance... But apparently not.

Why had he even bothered with such a ridiculous thing as hope? Why should he have ever thought he could depend on his family? He should have known better by now!

A savage bitterness welled inside his gut and he stood, jaw clenched and eyes dark with anger. But not just for his brothers. Anger with himself and the fact that he ever had to draw breath on this miserable planet. If this was what he had been destined for the entire time, than why should he have had to endure all the troubles life had thrown him thus far? If his tribulations hadn't been meant to make him a better person, why had they happened at all? It didn't make sense.

Was he truly that worthless?

Slowly, his eyes opened and he lifted his head to lock gazes with King Fredrik. Currently, Prince Konrad was whispering something privately into his majesties ear. Fredrik's eyes however, were fixed on Hans's, and his expression conveyed nothing less than complete sorrow and pity. Hans hated pity. He'd rather die than be pitied, and with the way things were going, his death wouldn't be long in coming.

After a short time, Hans nodded understandingly.

"I see," he said, his voice surprisingly calm. Hans felt little to no anxiety, which puzzled him slightly, but then again, he supposed it was either that the realization of what awaited him had yet to dawn on him fully, or he was just too mad at himself and everyone else to care.

"I see," he repeated.

The entire court room waited silently, each individual holding their breaths in preparation for an outburst or verbal onslaught of some kind. But none came. Hans simply kept nodding, lowering his head in resignation to his fate.

Finally, the councilman Snodtroff found his voice once more.

"Prince Hans's execution shall commence in three day's time at the first light of dawn. All information regarding his crimes will be released to the public within 24 hours after the hanging. Until that time, Prince Hans will be held prisoner within his room and allowed to make out a will in which he will then-"

"**Stop!**"

Hans jerked his head up in shock at the booming voice of his brother the king and everyone's eyes flew towards where Fredrik was now standing, his scepter gripped tightly in his right hand. A fiery fury burned within King Fredrik's eyes, unlike anything Hans had ever seen come from him before. Fredrik descended the pedestal steps of his throne chair, his long purple robe flowing behind him regally.

"I will hear no more of this!" he declared loudly, his voice echoing off the marble walls. Hans startled in apprehension as his eldest brother marched towards him in long, determined strides. The council watched their king, utterly aghast at his brash behavior while the princes scrunched their brows in perplexity.

Hans braced himself for the worst as the king stormed up to him, halting to stand facing him with a mere foot's distance between them. Hans had never felt so intimidated in his whole life. Fredrik was practically oozing sternness and authority. Whatever was bound to come from his mouth next was not going to be good.

Fredrik towered high, his shoulders square and his expression solidly resolute. His eyes penetrated deep into his youngest brothers confused and searching ones. Then, taking a slow breath through the nose, the king spoke.

"As crowned King Fredrik the fifth of the Southern Isles, I hereby bestow my royal pardon on Prince Hans," Fredrik announced, eliciting gasps of shock and jaws to drop. Hans blinked in astonishment, his heartbeat increasing rapidly. Surely he had misheard... He couldn't believe it. He _wouldn't_...

"_What?_" Hans croaked. Fredrik's firm gaze did not waver.

"He will _not_ be hanged for his crimes and will instead remain prisoner within his bedroom until an alternate punishment for his actions is concluded by this council," Fredrik stated stiffly. The councilmen each stood up, outraged and frustrated that their sound judgement on the case was being overturned. A barrage of pleads erupted into the air.

"Sire, you-"  
"But your high-"  
"My lord-"

"This trial his **over**!" Fredrik roared, his thunderous words slicing through the complaints and causing every one of the councilmen to shrink back. The king's gaze swiveled over to the council and eyed them heavily.

"My word is final," he declared. Then, he was striding away, his long robe trailing behind him. The doors were opened by the guards and the king exited without another word.

...

As soon as his majesty was gone, the entire room exploded in an uproar.

"This is unbelievable!"  
"He cannot be serious!"  
"What has gotten into him?" the questionings went on and on between the councilmen.

"Don't you dare question our brother!" Günter growled savagely, bounding across the room to poke a hard finger into the main councilman's chest.  
"His highness has made a critical error in judgement!" the Snodtroff snapped.  
"I believe he has done the right thing," Axel put in.  
"He is going to doom us all! Now what will we do with the runt?! Lock him away in some god forbidden tower?" Emil sniveled, "The only way this monarchy is going to keep its slate clean is if we wash our hands of him!"  
"That's enough out of you Emil!" Günter barked, now spinning to glare viciously at his snake of a brother, "Have you absolutely no heart for our own flesh and blood?"  
"I have a heart for this monarchy and for everything it stands for!" Emil spat back, "Fredrik cannot ignore the fact that Hans has tried to murder a fellow Queen!"

"The King ignores nothing!" now broke in Prince Konrad, stepping forward to separate the two quarreling brothers. He gave them both stern glares.  
"Fredrik has done what he believes to be right and there will be no more debate on this subject," he ordered strongly, turning to eye even the councilmen, "Not from anybody,"

"You must see that this can only bring greater trouble upon our situation. What will be done with Prince Hans now? Think of the expenses it will cost to keep people's mouths shut until a decision regarding the young prince has been made!" spoke Prince Otto for the first time. As the king's royal treasurer it was only natural for Otto to be concerned with involving money into the picture. To him, expenses were all he ever fretted about.

"Dash the costs!" Konrad responded, "We will pay however many people necessary that it will take to keep word on this subject strictly confined to these castle walls,"

"Whatever is to be done with Prince Hans must be decided quickly," Axel remarked, "We cannot afford to keep the people of the Southern Isles awaiting news of their young prince for much longer,"

"Rumors will spread no matter what we attempt to do!" Emil argued, "and I guarantee you they will all be damaging!"

"Didn't I say that's enough from you?!" Günter blared, bursting forth towards Emil as if he was going to flatten the much thinner man into the ground where he stood.

"I'm not scared of you," Emil sneered.  
"Why you selfish-"

Günter lunged.

"Calm yourselves!" Axel interjected, now working with Konrad to keep the two brothers from breaking into an all out fist fight. Keeping Gunter back alone was quite the task, since the man was by far one of the biggest brothers aside from his twin and Fredrik.

"This is not princely behavior!" Axel reminded worriedly, "Think of what our people would say if they saw us!"

"Think of what they'll _do_ to us if they find out we've let our brat of a brother off the hook and have pardoned him from his crimes of high treason!" Emil hissed.

"He is _not_ off the hook! There are far worse punishments than death!" Konrad returned, "Hans will be checked. There is no way the king will allow him to stay in this castle without having atoned for his actions,"

"Someone needs to talk with Fredrik and make sure his head is on straight," Emil stated.  
"How about I see if your head is on straight?" Günter returned.  
"You big brute!" Emil snapped. Günter went for him again.  
"Really?" Axel sighed as he and Konrad did their utmost to keep their younger brothers from fighting. It was clear that these tempers were not going to die down very soon...

...

Meanwhile, during all this chaos, Prince Hans had brought his hands up to the sides of his face, rubbing at his temples in complete shell shock of the circumstances. The arguments waging around his ears had all drifted off into the background. Faintly, after a while, Hans thought he felt a hand on his shoulder but he was still too lost to process all of what was happening.

He had been bound for the hangman's noose. He knew he deserved it and death was the only fitting end for him after all he had done. He had been prepared to accept this vicious fate... and now...Fredrik had taken... _mercy_ on him? _Why? **Why**_ would he do that? The idea was so far out of his mind's comprehension, he was left standing in a daze.

"Hans-" came a soft voice by his ear. There was a gentle tug on his arm.

Hans shook his head, not wanting to move.

"Hans- brother," came the voice again. Hans shook his head harder, not liking to be nagged while in thought.

"Hans, let's go to your room," the voice persisted.

Hans dropped his hands from where they'd been by his face and turned his head abruptly to stare at who was bothering him. It was Hubert.

Hubert was looking at him kindly, and squeezed his hand on Hans's shoulder ever so slightly.  
"Come on.." he prompted, now leading Hans out for the exit. The argument between the princes and the other council members was still in progress but Hubert and Hans ignored it, instead leaving the court room entirely, being followed humbly by two guards.

"Why... why would he do that?" Hans murmured as Hubert guided him down the hall for the stairs.  
"It's alright," Hubert comforted.  
"Why? Why would he do that?" Hans repeated in awestruck wonder.

King Fredrik had never attempted to show an interest in the happenings of his younger siblings, especially not him, since he was the youngest. And now... when Hans had committed the worst crime imaginable... putting their country in the most horrifying position and proving that as the thirteenth born, he truly was bad luck, Fredrik had thought him worth sparing? It made absolutely no sense!

Vaguely aware of anything while he ascended the stairs and was brought down the hall back to his bedroom, Hans continued to ask himself,

_"Why would he have mercy on me...?" _

* * *

_And there you have it! Of course you all knew he wasn't going to DIE! If he was then this would be a pretty darn awful story don't you think? Haha! But hey, I hope you were all touched at how his savior came about! _

_No Frida this chapter I know, but she's coming up next! _

_Now, Leave lots of new reviews for me! ;) _


	12. Second Chances

_Hi readers!  
So for this chapter I decided to expand a little bit on King Fredrik so that a bit more can be understood about him, but Hans and Frida are also in this chapter so no worries! :) _

* * *

**Tales From the Southern Isles**

* * *

Chapter 11: Second Chances

...

The Royal stables were very lively in the afternoon. Stable hands were bustling everywhere, mucking stalls, scrubbing water buckets, cleaning tack, grooming horses and exercising others. The head stable manager was wandering leisurely down the halls, a casual air of authority in his posture and attitude as he over saw the underlings around him, making certain their duties were being done.

There was a serene order about how things were run in the barn. For someone looking to escape the current stresses of life, it was a good place to find refuge. King Fredrik often sought the company of the horses and the barn staff just to get some peace of mind away from all of his political duties. Having a brisk ride over the luscious landscape of the castle grounds was always invigorating and the idea was highly appealing to Fredrik just now.

"Head horseman," he called out from where he stood by the large wooden stable doors. The stable manager promptly spun about from his overseeing of the stable hands and startled at the sight of the king.

"Your majesty!" the head horseman responded, saying it loud enough so that the attention of all the other hands in the barn would hear. In an instant all eyes were on the monarch and simultaneously they each swept down in respectful bows.

"I am in the mood for a ride. Have my horse prepped and saddled if you please, then bring him out to the court yard," Fredrik ordered.

"Of course your highness," the head horseman replied quickly, bowing once more. The king nodded and then exited the barn, strolling towards the garden court yard.

The trees were all in bloom this time of year and the leaves all possessed a remarkable flush of beautiful colors, the occasional flower bud blooming in their wake. It was a lovely place but despite its breath taking vibrance, the King had not made a habit of visiting the garden as of late.

A combination of his ever entrapping responsibilities as the kingdom ruler and the amount of spontaneous meetings with the council had something to do with his lack of time to visit the pleasant little oasis, but those were only the technical reasons. There was yet another side of it that was far more personal...

King Fredrik's wife, Queen Katherine, had always made it her priority to see to the business of keeping up the castle grounds. She loved the gardens and hand selected most of the bushes and flowers that grew in them now. There had once been a time where Fredrik and his queen would take long walks together through the immaculate shrubberies to admire her good taste in landscaping and discuss the complications of royal life. But all that had changed when the queen had fallen ill and died within a two week time period. It had been five years ago, and yet Fredrik could still feel the fresh pain of it as if it had happened yesterday. The gardens usually only served to intensify his extreme grief, which was why Fredrik took to the habit of avoiding them.

However, today was different.

The trial that morning had taken a lot out of Fredrik, as was quite evident in the slouched way that he walked and in the heaviness of his eyes as he meandered through the court yard. Prince Hans had knocked him tumbling into a vicious set of thorny thickets, that was for sure. Ever since his return after the Arendelle incident, Hans had been a burdening thought on Fredrik's mind. Though it was true that Fredrik had spent very little quality time with his youngest brother, if ever, to be in fact, it did not change the certainty in which Fredrik felt in his decision to save Prince Hans from death.

There was no telling what kind of guilt the king would have to live with if a member of his own family had been so heartlessly cast down and executed for actions in which Fredrik were becoming to believe weren't entirely the young prince's fault.

It was very true that the most of his brothers felt Hans to be little more than a thorn in their sides. In Fredrik's mind, there was no doubt that such behavior of contempt and indifference had nurtured young Hans into becoming the lost soul that he was. Hans had said so himself in his testimony on the subject to the council. Therefore, it had been impossible to ignore the sense of responsibility which the king knew weighed on his shoulders. Hans was not a problem to be tossed away and forgotten. Hans was a problem that needed careful solving. It was vital that Hans's chosen punishment be perfect for the purpose of both admonition and reformation.

"Sire," called the head horse master, leading a large fjord stallion from the stables, "Your mount is ready," he informed as he led the horse towards the court yard. Fredrik was brought out of his musings and turned about to mount up. But it was just then that he heard his brother Axel calling to him.

"Wait, Fredrik, where are you going?" the prince inquired, rushing over.

"Out for a short ride," Fredrik replied.  
"Well don't go alone. Allow me to come with you," Axel suggested hopefully. After a moment of contemplation Fredrik nodded then mounted. The stable master turned off to quickly get Axel's horse prepared as well.

"Konrad is handling the situation in the court room. I figured I aught to come and provide you with some company," Axel explained. Fredrik nodded, situating his horse's reins in his hands as he adjusted to sit comfortably in the saddle. His horse blowed through his nostril and stomped a hoof impatiently.

"What are we going to do about Hans?" Axel inquired carefully after a moment of lingering silence. Fredrik sighed heavily.  
"I don't know yet... but I must think of something, and soon,"

...

Hans sat in his desk chair by his bedroom window, staring out into the gardens below. Lunch had been brought in for him on a tray, but he wasn't eating. He was far too engulfed in watching his brothers, King Fredrik and Prince Axel talking in the court yard. It looked like Fredrik was about to go for a ride, and shortly after Axel's horse was brought to him as well.

It was still impossible for Hans to determine what was going through his oldest brother's mind. Why had Fredrik spared him from the gallows? It seemed no one had any ideas. Even Hubert, who was currently staying in the room with him while reading in silence on the couch, hadn't been able to offer any insight to Fredrik's thought process.

So, the young prince simply sat, staring down at the forms of his two older brothers and watched as they trotted away on their horses into the distance. Once they were completely out of his line of sight, Hans sighed and pushed away from the window.

"How long does he expect me to wait until I know what is to be done with me? Does he even _know_ what is to be done with me?" Hans questioned. Hubert sighed from where he sat and lowered his book.

"For the last time, I do not know,"  
"Why are you even in here? Why bother sitting with me?" Hans interrogated, shooting up from his seat to begin prowling around like a restless tiger.

"Because I feel it is best that someone keep an eye on you for a little while. You've been through a lot today and I wouldn't expect anyone to be perfectly alright after a near encounter with death,"

"You think I'm going to do something rash," Hans grumbled.

"I don't know about that, but I'm going to stay in here all the same," Hubert replied calmly, now returning to his book. Hans snorted and continued to pace about the room.

What was it with his brothers and trying to show that they cared? Was that in truth what this even was? Was it... _caring? _Hans shuttered. Of course not. There was some other explanation, he was sure of it.

"There is no way that Fredrik saved my hide out of the goodness of his heart. He doesn't know me well enough for that, and even if he did know me, then he certainly wouldn't have saved me," Hans huffed, "Therefore, there must be a political edge to this..." he mused, his brows narrowing darkly as he attempted to work out the possibilities.

Hubert flipped a page in his book and sighed.

"What if he only saved me in a deviously underhanded attempt to secure my unwavering gratitude and loyalty for life!" Hans burst. Hubert didn't blink an eye.

"Or perhaps he was simply too much of a coward and didn't want to have any blood stains on his hands, especially blood of a family member. That would make the most sense don't you think?" Hans pressed. Hubert offered no reply, ignoring him completely. Hans ground his jaw.

"Maybe he-"

"Hans, you are over thinking this entirely," Hubert finally interrupted, "People don't always have selfish motives behind their actions you know," he informed in exasperation.

"People of _this_ family do," Hans rebutted. Hubert shot him a challenging look.  
"And what selfish motive could I _possibly_ have for coming in here and staying with my criminal brother to keep him company? I have plenty of other things I could be doing right now, I assure you," he stated flatly.

Hans had to think that one over. Chewing on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, Hans pivoted slowly on his heel, hands resting on his hips as he brainstormed. Hubert waited. A good long few minutes passed and Hans still had nothing.

"Just give it up, you know I don't have any," Hubert grunted.

"No, no, I'll think of something," Hans assured confidently, "There is _always_ something,"

"If that's what you want to believe fine," Hubert relented, "but in the meantime, have you yet considered what you are going to _do_ now that you've been miraculously given a second chance?"

"What do you mean '**_do_**'?" Hans questioned. It was in that moment that there was an abrupt knock on the bedroom door.

"Hubert, you are needed downstairs," came the voice of Nels on the other side.

"Coming," Hubert replied, now getting up from the couch and bringing his book with him. On his way to the door Hubert patted Hans's shoulder.

"Think about my question," he prompted. The door clicked after being unlocked from the outside and he opened it, shooting Hans a weak smile, then left. Nels remained in the door way however and when the two youngest brothers locked gazes, Hans thought he detected a bit of nervousness in his sibling's eyes.

Hans folded his arms.

"What?" he demanded.

"You didn't mention anything about... our earlier discussion, did you?" Nels inquired tentatively. Hans sighed inwardly. After everything that had happened to him that morning, _that's_ what Nels was worried about?

"No, I didn't," Hans growled irritatedly.  
"Oh good..." Nels's expression became significantly more relieved, "Thank you,"

There was an awkward silence where Hans just glared at him. Nels cleared his throat.  
"I thought that if you'd tell anybody... well...it would be Hubert. He tends to understand things better than the others," Nels explained.  
"Why haven't you told him then?" Hans inquired.  
"Because I- I just can't risk anyone else knowing. Not until the arrangements are finished. I chose one person to confide in during the meantime and that person was you," Nels replied with a small smile just before closing the door and leaving Hans alone once more.

Hans mentally scoffed and shook his head.

_Yeah... me and a silly little cleaning maid who was hiding in my closet the whole time listening in._

Where was she anyway? Had everything gone off without a hitch once he'd left his room that morning for his trial? Hans hoped so. Perhaps if he ever had the chance, he would find a way to encounter her again. That way he could make certain she hadn't spilled anything about their interactions, and was continuing to honor her promise.

That girl, despite his initial annoyance with her, had somehow managed to intrigue him.

...

If anyone ever had the justified right to complain about an unfair amount of chores placed on their shoulders, it was Frida. The colossal heap of physical labor, in which she had been tasked to finish all in the span of one day, should have been against the law.

She scrubbed floors, cleaned windows, mended clothes and beat carpets until her fingers were raw, her arms were sore, her back was breaking and her spirit was reduced to nothing but a puddle of insignificance. During her long hours of subservient obligations, Frida had picked up bits and pieces from other servants murmurings about the uproar all the princes and the council men were currently in over Prince Hans's trial, but she didn't hear enough to deduce what the whole fracas down there was regarding exactly. Her work kept her moving and constantly out of reach of the line of gossipers, so she was unable to learn anything substantial throughout the day. By the end of it, she was too wiped to care anyway.

It wasn't until the late hours of the night that she concluded her day's worth of duties and had managed to drag her tortured body up the stairs to the servants' quarters. Her aunt was there, waiting for her in the hall when she got there.

"I've... I've done..." Frida panted between words, leaning against the nearest wall, trying to stay upright and awake after such a hard many hours of service, "I've done everything you asked..." she finally breathed out, "Are you... satisfied?" she inquired, ready to drop to the floor any moment from exhaustion.

Aunt Sophia analyzed her niece with a critical pair of dagger eyes.  
"For now," she replied at last, "I hope all ideas of sneaking off have been wiped entirely from your head. I don't want to ever find you missing again! Do you understand me?" she questioned. Frida nodded, her lip quivering and her eyes moist with tired tears. Upon further note of her niece's pitiful condition, Aunt Sophia sighed, her features softening at the pathetic spectacle before her.

"Come here my dear girl... " she prompted, opening her arms in a welcoming manner for a hug. Frida limped forward, quite certain she'd sprained her ankle from having scurried up and down numerous stairs, and fell into her aunt's embrace.

"You've done a _good_ job... you have. Now now... don't cry. Whatever it was you did this morning, it's all behind us now. You get a second chance to prove to me you're fit for the royal cleaning staff, don't you worry," she crooned, petting Frida's head in a motherly fashion. After a good while of holding the poor girl, Aunt Sophia released her hold on Frida and held her an arm's length away.

"Tomorrow is your holiday," she reminded sweetly, "You can go spend it in town and do whatever your little pea pickin' heart desires," she encouraged with a hopeful smile. Frida did her best to return the expression, attempting to take heart in that knowledge, but her lips were too tired to even curl all the way up at the ends, producing instead a rather oddly squiggled line. Aunt Sophia just laughed lightly and patted her niece on the shoulder.

"Start undressing and get into bed," she ordered. Frida nodded, all too thankful at the idea of sleep, and moved off down the hall for her bedroom.

Tomorrow was going to be a new day, and she could start fresh.

...

* * *

_Bet you guys weren't expecting King Fredrik to be a widower were you? lol And Hubert is so adorable. He's really the guy Hans needs around him right now. Hubert and Nels that is._

_I'm always a fan of writing brother interactions! Next chapter there will be even more, I promise! Also... look forward to Hans and Frida encountering one another again! I've been waiting to get to that part for a while now. :) _


	13. Rumors

_Alright peeps!  
So... this chapter I did not have at all planned out in the slightest and it kind of just came to me as I wrote it. I'm really hoping it didn't turn out that bad! Personally, I'm rather happy with it, though there's not as much Hans-Frida interaction in it as I planned. _

_But don't you worry! It is coming! _

_I know you've all been eager to read that. :) _

_Hope you all enjoy! _

* * *

**Tales From the Southern Isles**

* * *

Chapter 12: Rumors

...

"A cleaning maid?"

"Yes,"

Hubert blinked in perplexity, standing with his hands tucked neatly behind his back and staring at his youngest brother with a cocked brow. Hans stood across the bedroom, hair tussled from sleep, with a robe wrapped clumsily around himself. He had woken an hour ago, at seven o'clock exactly, and had spent some time reading, but all the while, thoughts of that cleaning maid and the threat that she was to himself and to Nels had persisted in looming over him.

Hans could put off meeting with the maid no longer. Shortly after Hubert had entered the room with a breakfast tray, Hans had decided to broach the subject. But ever so carefully. He could not give _anything_ away having to relate with the incident the night before.

"Why, whatever do you need a cleaning maid for?" Hubert questioned. Hans deadpanned.  
"Well I don't know, Hubert. To _clean_ I suppose," Hans scoffed.  
"Don't get smart with me," Hubert berated, completely unamused, "You only arrived here two days ago. The room isn't that bad," he stated, his eyes glancing around at the random articles of clothes lying here or there.

"Do you want to take a whiff in that bathroom?" Hans offered, gesturing over towards the adjoining room in question. Hubert hesitated, sending a glance that direction at the closed door before shooting Hans a disturbed look.

"Hey, I'll have you know, I was a victim of motion sickness for three days. Don't judge me," Hans defended. Of course, the bathroom wasn't _really_ that bad.

It was all an act Hans was putting on as an excuse for needing a cleaning maid. At the moment, Hans was counting on the fact that Hubert would not want to risk the horror of actually opening that bathroom door to find out just how bad it _was_ in there. As it turned out, it worked.

Hubert sighed heavily.  
"I'll see what I can do," he conceded, "But just in case you forgot, you are supposed to be a prisoner here. Just because we are allowing you to be held in your chambers doesn't mean you can behave as if we are all at your command," he warned, now turning to leave the room.

"Oh and I heard there is this young, spunky black haired maid that does a good job in particular," Hans added casually, "Send her up will you?"

Hubert's shoulders slumped in hopelessness.

"You are unbelievable," he grouched.

Hans smirked as Hubert left, the door clicking shut behind him.

It was just _too_ easy.

...

Hubert traveled down the illustrious flight of stairs and down into the palace entrance hall where he promptly exited a set of giant double doors and descended onto a stone path way which led through an assortment of lush gardens.

King Fredrik, Konrad and Günter were currently outside at the archery range located on the east side of the castle grounds, practicing with their bows.

"Ah! Hubert! Witness as I best our good brother the King in a friendly archery completion!" Günter beckoned, preparing to take aim with his long bow and positioning the arrow so it was set and ready to fly. Hubert nodded a silent greeting to Konrad who was standing patiently by, then bowed respectfully to Fredrik. Even if they were brothers, it was still customary for the siblings to greet their king properly.

"Friendly indeed," Fredrik responded smugly to Günter, "You've been talking smack since we began,"

"Harmless teasing comes with any form of rivalry," Günter chuckled and drew back on the bow string, steadying the arrow's tail so it was a mere tickle against his thickly bearded cheek. His stance was strong, a perfect pillar of perfection from many years of practice. He stared down the target board across the yard, aligning his aim.

Hubert cleared his throat.

"I thought it fit to inform you that Prince Hans has requested a cleaning maid be sent to his chambers," he informed.

Günter jerked at the odd information, accidentally letting the arrow loose too soon, thus shooting it whizzing through the air to lodge into the very edge of the target board, nearly missing it entirely.

"Rats!" Günter barked, whirling to look at Hubert in frustration, "Ill timing brother, ill timing!"

Fredrik chuckled, "I believe that's a shilling you owe me Günter,"

"What's this about Hans wanting a cleaning maid?" Konrad pressed, looking at Hubert curiously.

"That cheeky devil thinks we're going to provide him inn service does he?" Günter snorted, lowering his bow and fishing around in his pocket to produce the money he owed Fredrik. If Otto had seen them openly waging bets and exchanging their pocket money over sports, he would have had a heart attack.

"Yes," Hubert replied softly, "He even asked for a specific maid, though for the life of me I can't figure how he'd know any of them," Hubert murmured thoughtfully.

"It seems Hans is almost enjoying his confinement," Konrad stated.  
"What he needs is a good dose of hard work doing something. _Anything_," Günter stated, "Why, I'll put him out here and use him for target practice. Let him see how well he can balance an apple on his pretty little head and we'll go from there,"  
"Don't be ridiculous," Hubert chided.  
"I'm not being ridiculous. The lad is used to getting everything in the world he could possibly desire. He needs to find out that _real_ life isn't as easy as all that," Günter returned.

"Has he been given everything he desires?"

Konrad, Hubert and Günter all turned to look in some surprise towards King Fredrik. He'd been standing quietly by the bushes, not offering a word until now.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Günter questioned, "Of course he has! He's the youngest, and therefore he's been the most pampered brat to breathe oxygen. Honestly, after mother died he was the most spoiled rotten child in the whole country,"

Konrad and Hubert both turned somber at the mention of their deceased mother... It was a tender spot for them all, but Fredrik's eyes only sharpened on Günter.

"After mother died we treated that poor boy like the plague," the king opposed, "And we've done so ever since,"

Günter shut his mouth, each of the brothers stunned into silence at Fredrik's bold proclamation. But it was true. It was very true...

Fredrik clenched his jaw, shifting his stance and snatching up his bow.

"Fetch Hans whatever maid he wishes. In fact, make certain he has whatever it is he desires. Let him get one last good taste of his privileges as prince, because tomorrow, he will no longer have them," he stated stiffly. Konrad, Günter and Hubert all looked on in perplexity.

"I've made my decision on what is to be done with him," Fredrik stated, "and after I announce it tomorrow morning in the royal court room, Hans's life is going to change forever..."

And with that, Fredrik strode away. Konrad hurriedly moved to follow after him.

"Wait, wait! You've made your decision?!" he questioned, his voice trailing off as they walked out of ear shot.

Günter and Hubert exchanged a glance.

"I'll see what I can do to fetch that maid..." Hubert said after a moment of stillness.  
"I'll come with you," Günter offered.

...

It was mid morning by the time Frida reached the town market place, and when she did, the streets were absolutely buzzing with activity. Delicious smells from bakery carts and fruit stands danced in the air while musicians played jolly folk tunes off to the side, smiling to the people who passed along the road with their fresh purchases.

Since it was her day off, Frida was dressed in her civilian apparel. She found that it was only when out of her maid uniform that she truly felt free to bask in the enjoyment of all life's simple pleasures. Frida enjoyed getting to ware what she liked, adding her own small stylish additions and showing them off when she could. After all, wearing the same exact thing as the rest of your cleaning partners did get boring after six days a week.

Sundays were Frida's regular break days from her obligations to the castle and she spent them in very much the same routine. Visiting the market place was always the first thing on her list. Not only was it one of the most pleasant places she ever got to frequent, but while there, she also was able to interact with people that didn't belong to the castle's primly mannered working staff.

However, this Sunday, there was a significant damper to the delightful experience of mingling with the towns folk.

Frida had sworn an oath to king and country that she would not breath a single word about Prince Hans's arrival, or the high treason he had committed. Therefore, she was robbed of the great delight she'd no doubt have in getting to be the first to share one of the most intriguing occurences perhaps to ever take place within the entiire history of the Southern Isles.

Such a shame.

Lifting her chin in determination, Frida steeled herself against the tempting opportunites for gossip that were sure to come, and waltzed forward into the crowd, a wicker basket in one hand and her money pouch in the other. She stopped by the fruit stands, purchasing several apples. An apple pie sounded positively scrumptious right now and Frida decided she would simply have to make one when she returned home to spend the day with her parents and siblings.

It was after having purchased ingredients from several different booths, that Frida's attention was suddenly drawn to the sight of a cart across the street overspilling with blooming flowers. The thrill of taking in the beauty of so many bouquets and their vibrant colors was one thing, but what excited Frida even more so, was the sudden memory of a certain prince... and his intended.

_Rose_.

That had been her name. Unable to refrain from the overpowering curiosity that seized her chest, Frida strode towards the flower shop, eager to spot a glimpse, and perhaps even meet the soon to be Princess. That was... if Prince Nels was successful in being able to marry her before he was talked out of it by ones who should disapprove. Honestly, Hans had been awful the other morning, telling his brother to give up on true love. What kind of sibling gave such advice? Perhaps Hans was so indifferent because he himself had never before been in love. Yes, surely that was it! And neither was he likely to ever be after the _shining_ example he'd made for himself. Even if he was the most _handsome_ creature she'd ever laid eyes on, that wouldn't save himself from people's harsh judgements after news of his crimes was leaked. As it was... Frida had thought a lot about the Prince since their last encounter. It had been too odd of an event to forget quiet so easily.

_I wonder what Prince Hans is up to now... Is he still a prisoner in his room? Has his fate been decided by the royal court? If so, when do they plan on announcing it with the rest of the kingdom? _

Frida brushed these thoughts away from the forefront of her mind and smiled when she came to a stand right before the flower cart. A collision of giant roses, lilies, carnations and poppies sprouted out from the various buckets which they were propped inside of, seeming to welcome her warmly with their brightly inviting colors.

"Can I help you?" said a sweet female voice. Frida's eyes leapt up eagerly in search for the face of this _Rose, _and was promptly taken aback when she saw it was an older woman who had come to greet her. She appeared to be in her 40s with tired wrinkles under her eyes but kind, smiling lips. Frida's brows arched in disappointment. Surely, Prince Nels wouldn't fall for... Or _would_ he?!

"Umm... no, no thank you, just browsing..." Frida responded, taking perhaps a moment too long. The older lady just nodded and turned away to help another customer.

_That... couldn't be Rose could it? _she wondered_, Maybe there is another flower cart around here that-_

"Rose!" the older lady suddenly called back behind the flower cart, "Will you help these lovely folks out a moment?"

Frida perked up instantly and held her breath as a secondary face now emerged from behind a large bushels of flowers. Now... this face... _**this**_ face Frida approved! Rose was a quaintly but pretty young woman with strawberry blonde hair that swept up in a half bun, the rest of her curly locks flowing over her shoulders. She was thin and had a grace in the way she moved through the flower shop, gliding like an angel through the beautiful buds around her. Not to mention, she had some of the brightest most gentle blue eyes.

Yes, yes. Frida aproved very much. Smiling giddly, Frida moved safely out of sight to observe Rose interact with the customers without being percieved herself. Rose had a very becoming nature about her, that was lively, yet so very gentle and gracious. It wasn't hard to imagine Prince Nels being swept off his feet at the sight of such a young lady. Frida sighed. What an adorable couple they would make...

"Did you know about the ship that docked two nights ago after midnight?"  
"Aye, I did. And a royal ship at that,"

Frida startled and glanced to her left where she spotted a group of three gruff looking fishermen talking amongst themselves by a meat stand.

"No doubt it's Prince Hans come back from his travels to Arendelle,"  
"Tis strange his arrival hasn't been formally announced..." the fishermen continued.

Their conversation was hardly quiet enough to possibly _not_ overhear, and its subject matter was most alarming. Frida couldn't help but listen in, though as she did so she readily admitted to herself that eavesdropping was becoming worse and worse of a habit for her these days and would sooner or later need to be broken.

"Definitely odd," the first fisherman commented.  
"Not as odd as the fact that each and every single one of the princes have returned back home to the palace. It's no one's birthday I can think of, so what on earth is so important that could have brought them all together?" the second, smallest man spoke up, "Someone's birthday perhaps?"  
"They would have announced it in the town bulletin," spoke the third.  
"Something strange is going on up there. I can feel it. Whatever is happening, I get the hunch they don't want us knowing about it," said the first.  
"Nonsense, I'm sure there is a sensible reason," replied the second.  
"If it was a sensible reason Prince Axel would have made an appearance and informed the village of what is going on! He always keeps us informed," the first argued.  
"That is true..." said the second.  
"It's not like there is anything we can do about it anyway, so let's just drop the subject," the third man proposed.

For a moment they all said nothing more. And then they started again as a topic change took place.

"Say, I hear Prince Bosse is courting again,"  
"Which duchess this time?"  
"I forgot her name already,"  
"That prince is never going to settle down,"  
"He has to some day,"  
"One would think. Now... Prince Viggo on the other hand. That's a respectable lad. I heard he has ambitions to join the Southern Isles army under his elder brother Prince Günter,"  
"I disagree with all these princes joining the army. It doesn't make the slightest bit of sense for royalty to put themselves at risk,"  
"We're not at war with anybody, I'm sure it's just so they can decorate themselves with fancy titles,"

There was an assortment of thoughtful hums and it was at this point that Frida snapped herself away from eavesdropping on the fishermen to think about what she'd just heard. It was quite clear that people were getting rather suspicious of all that was going on. If something wasn't announced from the palace soon, it was possible that the townsfolk would even get angry... And that wasn't a pleasant thought. Besides, the power of rumors alone were dangerous. If townsfolk started getting their own ideas about what was going on, there was no telling how bad things could get for the monarchy. Frida bit her lip and turned back to the task at hand. As interesting as this information all was, she was waisting time. Her family was waiting!

A short while later, Frida concluded her morning shopping, and with a basket full of goodies, headed towards home.

...

"I'm sorry... who is looking for Frida?"

Sophia set down the table cloth she'd been folding and crossed her arms as she stared down the young footman before her. They were in the laundry room and much was still to be done. Sophia did not like being interrupted when in the middle of her work.

"You heard me. Frida has been requested to go and attend to Prince Hans's bedroom," the young footman explained. Sophia cocked a brow.  
"Why must it be Frida?"  
"Prince Günter and Prince Hubert were the ones to ask for her personally," the footman replied. Sophia made a face. This was positively the most outrageous thing she'd ever heard. Since when did the princes start requesting certain members of cleaning staff to particular rooms? They'd never done something like this before... not in her memory at least.

"Frida is on her day off," Sophia replied curtly.  
"Well that's not helpful! What do I tell the princes?" the footman asked, looking frantic.  
"Tell them that I will send her up first thing in the morning,"  
"That's not acceptable! They want her now!"  
"Well tell them to ride off into town and _get_ her then!" Sophia snapped back.  
"Are you crazy woman?!"  
"Young man, if the princes want Frida so badly, tell them the truth. She is out," Sophia responded coolly. The footman clutched his hair, completely flustered, but heaved a sigh and turned out of the room.

Sophia looked back to the pile of freshly cleaned table sheets before her with furrowed brows, pondering what all of this was about. Why was Frida the one wanted? The princes request was an odd and somewhat disturbing one. Did it have some relation with the morning that Sophia discovered her niece had snuck off...? Had Frida gotten into some form of trouble? It wouldn't be surprising... but still, Sophia was deeply concerned.

...

When the news was conveyed to Prince Günter and Prince Hubert that the maid called Frida was in fact in town on her break that day, both men groaned.

"Of course she is," Günter grumbled.  
"What do we do now?" Hubert asked.  
"Well, you heard Fredrik. He's tasked us with giving Hans what he wants. We'll just have to have a man sent into town to fetch her," Günter replied.  
"That seems like an awful lot of trouble for one maid,"  
"Leave it to Hans to make everything a thousand times more difficult for us," Günter snorted.  
"Indeed..." Hubert sighed.

...

Prince Hans had spent the day board out of his mind. A comfortable prison he might have been in, but it was still a prison none the less.

He'd tried reading, but the books on his shelf did little to entice him the way they did for some of his other brothers. He'd tried napping but found he was not all that tired and ended up lying awake and glaring at the ceiling for a half hour. When he could no longer stand that, Hans migrated to the desk in the corner of his room and picked up a feather quill, dipping it in some ink and preparing to write. After a long time of staring stupidly at the blank parchment, his quill hovering above it undecidedly, Hans angrily shoved the feather back into its bottle and stood up to pace about the room.

It seemed all that Hans was capable of doing, whether he liked it or not, was _brooding. _

Many unpleasant thoughts traversed through his mind during those hours of waiting. Thoughts ranging from his unhappy memories, to his cold, conniving brothers, and lastly to his present circumstances. What bothered Hans the most about his position, was not that he was trapped, but that he had no clue which direction he was to turn next.

Usually, he always had plots in mind, be them small ones or large. It was customary for him to plan out what his next course of action for his future was going to be, but now, he could not. He was no longer in control of his future. _Fredrik_ was.

The realization was a sour one.

For six hours, Hans was left alone with his dull spirits, growing more and more frustrated as the minutes ticked by. Where was the maid? Why had none of his brothers returned? Did they not actually intend to do as he asked? It was a high possibility. They weren't obligated to do any favors for him anyway so why should they care? Hans had fully convinced himself that Hubert had forgotten him entirely when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Hans jumped to his feet from off the sofa in which he sat, afterwards feeling slightly ashamed of himself for how ready he was to have company. His brothers had kept him waiting nearly all day. The _last_ thing he should be feeling was relief in having someone knock on the door. Hans frowned darkly as the door opened, determined to be mad at whoever entered, however, the moment he saw who had come in, his entire demeanor changed.

Entering into his bedroom was the very cleaning maid he had requested. She stepped inside ever so daintily, her cheeks flushed and her eyes cast downward to the floor. She curtsied respectfully, her expression completely stoic, if not slightly tired.  
"You summoned me... your highness," she said at last.

...

* * *

_Wow, this turned out to be a long chapter! Sheesh! So much to write! To be honest, I was at a loss of how exactly this chapter was going to play out, so it all feels rather haphazard to me. Did it seem at all disjointed or random to you, readers? I dearly hope not! _

_As I said, not as much interaction for Frida and Hans as I would have liked, but at least you know that more is definitely coming in the next chapter! _

_(Be sure to leave some reviews for me!)_


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